Melody of my Heart
by quietsong56
Summary: When Willa teams up with a brilliant bronze-haired pianist to help her write and perform her first song – a piece dedicated to the memory of her dead fiancé – she learns more than she bargained for about shared grief and healing. Post-Breaking Dawn, AU
1. Prologue

The silence in the room was unbearable.

He couldn't tell how long he had leaned over her, murmuring encouragements as he tried desperately to get her heart to beat. It could have been minutes; it could have been years. All he knew was that he had to keep going, had to make the blood and venom in her veins spread through her body. He worked tirelessly, never breathing, never stopping, his eyes fixed on her face as it rested peacefully beneath him. Just a little more, he was certain of it. Just a little more and the venom would take over, reviving her heart, and she would gasp air into her lungs so that her life could begin again.

Finally, fingers brushed against his shoulder and a voice whispered his name.

"Edward…"

He hissed at the sound, wrenching his arm away. His rhythm was interrupted, and he gave a miniscule pause before falling back into rhythm. One, two, three, four, five… He stopped the count before it got too high, afraid to find out how high it would go. A hand grabbed his arm, tugging, and still he continued to pump the silent chest beneath him. He didn't dare stop. He didn't dare look away from her beautiful face, the whole reason for his existence, for fear she would fade away like some long-forgotten dream.

Hands covered his own, and his mother spoke to him gently. "Son, I'm so sorry." Esme's voice cracked, and with it, so did his heart. She was right, of course. It had been too long. He didn't need to hear her thoughts to know Carlisle had already come to the same conclusion. If the venom was going to save her, it would have taken over by now, but her body was just too weak.

She had always been so fragile.

When Esme's hands tugged at his arm this time, he let himself go, turning into her waiting arms. She was shorter than he, but he huddled into her embrace and allowed himself to be her child this once, seeking comfort no one could truly give. A keening sound broke through the reverent silence, and after a moment he realized it came from himself. He cried dry tears into his mother's hair, plans already forming in his mind.

He would be with her, his Bella. That, or he would burn for eternity, paying for his sins as he surely deserved to. What greater sin was it than to take such an innocent, beautiful life from the world? His already-damned soul had committed its final crime, and he was ready to atone.

Pulling away, he turned back to the empty shell that had once been his Bella. His attempts to change her had closed her wounds, and he saw past the caked blood on her skin, seeing her as she once was, as she might have been if he had not been so foolish. Brushing her hair out of her face, his fingers ghosted over her lips, turned up in a peaceful smile. He leaned down to kiss her one last time before turning to flee out the door.

He was stopped short by a small figure blocking the doorway.

"Edward, don't," Alice told him, her voice firm. Her eyes were full of pain, but there was some other spark there as well. He opened his mouth to respond, to explain to her that there was no other way, when a new sound fell upon his ears. His eyes flitted downward, and he found Alice cradled a baby in her arms, legs kicking and face screwed up in massive yawn.

His baby. _Her_ baby. Their Renesmee.

Guilt blossomed in his chest as he took in her perfect face, lips smacking together as her eyes opened to squint at the world around her, perhaps for the first time. Edward watched her, listening to the gentle thrumming of her heart, and realized what he had been about to do would have left her without both her mother and her father. His heart broke again, shattering this time as he thought of this tiny child alone, without him to tell her every little detail about her mother. It would be far worse a sin to leave her now.

He would have to find some way to carry on. She would be his reason for living.

With a nod, Edward stepped forward, accepting his daughter into his arms and clutching her to his chest.


	2. You Know How It Is

Six months. Six long, torturous months had dragged by since Andrew had died, and still she felt like she was just pretending at life. The only way she could tell time had passed was that, slowly, she had gotten better at it. Day by day, she played at happiness, never telling anyone how she really felt. She was getting so good at it, in fact, that sometimes she even fooled herself, until she fell back into silence again and while everyone else's happiness continued on, hers was snuffed out.

Kicking the snow off her boots, Willa Monroe fished her keys out of her purse and pushed her way into the pristine white building that she now called home. She took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor and let herself into her shared apartment, tossing her purse onto the side table by the door and peeling her coat off.

"In the bathroom!" a voice called, the sound of the shower cutting off a moment later.

"Just me, Rhonda!" she called back as she worked off her boots. She left them lay, the black hiking boots looking out of place beside the other woman's bright pink runners. A towel-wrapped head peeked out of the bathroom, flashing a bright smile.

"Oh, hey Wil. I'll be out in a sec." Rhonda disappeared back into the bathroom, the door shutting behind her, and Willa made her way to the kitchen. The Ledyard Apartments had seemed at first like a boon; a smaller building filled with upper class students, no late night booze fests or parties, and a more academic atmosphere. Having lived off campus during freshman year, she had been leery of campus housing, and she had jumped at the opportunity to apply for something a little more controlled. The down side? Roommates. Sharing a common room, kitchen, and bathrooms with three other women made her yearn for the quiet comfort of the apartment she and Andrew had shared.

Unfortunately, without his support, there was no way she could afford to live off campus.

Pulling open the fridge, Wil retrieved the ground beef she'd stashed the day before and turned the oven on. There were only a few things she could do well, but her meatloaf was a smash hit and often requested on her nights to cook. By the time Rhonda emerged from the bathroom, it was in the oven, and Wil had just settled onto the couch. Rhonda snatched the remote away from her, earning an eye roll as she flopped onto the beanbag chair in the corner – her personal addition to the apartment's décor.

"God, I can't stand Judge Madison," she moaned as she flicked the TV on, setting the remote down anyway. "He's such a prick."

Wil almost felt the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile; there was a certain comfort to Rhonda's predictability. With her platinum blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes, she had the potential to be a beauty, and she acted the part. Unfortunately, about 20 pounds kept her from being the model many would expect, and her own disgust at the whole industry probably fueled those pounds, just to keep the stereotypes away. Still, as she began to paint her nails and soak up the drama on TV – another stilted lover, claiming the man she was going to marry had stolen her car and trashed it racing down the highway – Wil couldn't help thinking she'd fit right in if she wanted to.

Rhonda Wallace had turned into an easy friend though, one that didn't know her past and didn't treat her any differently for it. On move-in day, when Wil had shown up in sweats and a tank, Rhonda had clucked her tongue on seeing her and pulled her forcefully into the bathroom, taking her shoulder-length brown hair from its ponytail and drawing it up into a twirled bun, teasing strands around her face and telling her that, if she had to be dressed to work, her hair should still look good. It was largely due to Rhonda that Wil had started taking care of her appearance again, if only to avoid the endless nagging.

"So, what's the good word?" Rhonda asked as a commercial came on, looking up from her crimson nails.

Wil shrugged. "Not much," she admitted. "Class. Christmas shopping. You know how it is. I've got a piece due Friday that I'll probably be working on all night."

"Yeah, I've got a paper on Monday that I need to finish up. I thought they were supposed to work the freshmen and go easy on us poor soph's," she said, then perked up. "Oh! But there's this new student in my English class – you have got to see him, Wil! He is hotness personified. Maybe I can hook you two up."

"Right," Wil said with a smirk. "I'm not sure I can handle the Hotness. What about you – or are you more serious about Jeremy than you let on?" A warm smile crept onto Rhonda's face, and when she looked away, Wil got all the answer she knew she would get. She laughed and asked, "When do you see him next?"

"Tomorrow night," Rhonda told her, her voice animated. "He's been talking about this karaoke place he knows for a while and wants to get me on stage. I keep telling him I'm tone deaf, but he won't listen."

"Everyone there will probably be tone deaf, Rhonda. Go. Have fun!" Wil encouraged.

"Please. Singing's more your gig." A sly grin crept onto Rhonda's face. "You should come! And maybe I can invite the Hotness too. Seriously, Wil, we've been living together for 2 months and I've never seen you so much as talk to a guy. Is there someone back home? Are you a lesbian? Cause if you are, you know, I'm cool with that…but I'll have to stop going from the bathroom to my room naked. No offence."

The door opened, thank God, and saved Wil from having to answer. Rhonda had tried to pry information on her love life out of her a few times before, but it just wasn't a path she was ready to go down. She'd been there before, and every time she saw the inevitable pity in their eyes she wanted to punch them in the face.

Kate Miller and Eve Greenley – Yvonne, if you wanted to get on her bad side – were about as different as they came. Kate was short, with cropped black hair and a spot on her nose that had once held a nose ring in her more rebellious days. Eve, in contrast, was nearly six foot with an hourglass figure, blonde hair, and bad acne that she was a master of concealing. They'd been friends since middle school, and were now sharing the double room in their apartment. The pair was always telling tales of what they called their "latest adventure." Usually, it involved a few drinks, some high heels, and a flare for the dramatic. They were, perhaps, the strangest honors chemistry students in the entire Dartmouth student body.

"Attention, ladies!" Kate chirped as she tossed her coat into her bedroom on the way past. "I have a very important announcement: my second boyfriend has been spotted in the quad after my English class, and we will not be telling the first about his discovery." Eve rolled her eyes and ducked into their room, no doubt to pick up Kate's latest mess, while she continued into the living room and draped herself on the empty end of the couch.

"Don't think Max can take the competition?" Rhonda raised her eyebrows, and Kate scoffed at the idea.

"I know he can't this time!" She swung her legs up onto the couch, sitting cross-legged to face the other women. "He is, perhaps, the most beautiful man on the planet. Perfect blonde hair, tall, fit, with the most incredible eyes."

"You saw him too?" Rhonda perked up. "Isn't he just unbelievable?"

"You know it! Oh, to be near him…" Fanning herself, Kate leaned backward and gave a low whistle.

"Isn't your boyfriend already a senior, Katie dear?" Eve asked as she came out of the bedroom. She had lost her coat and changed into a pair of brown sweats, which she brushed a piece of lint from as she perched onto the arm of the couch. Wil took it as an opportunity to stand, motioning for Eve to take her vacated spot.

"I need to finish up dinner," she mumbled, practically ignored by the other three. Kate flipped Eve the bird and stuck out her tongue. There was a scathing retort in there somewhere, but Wil had disappeared around the corner, doing her best to block the three of them out. By the time dinner was ready, they were deep in conversation about their latest hookups and breakups, and Wil ate in silence before slipping into her room to finish up some course work before bed.

The study of music was Wil's passion. Well, no, that wasn't quite right – singing was her passion, but the study of music was a close second. Before Andrew had died, Wil had been on the fast track to soloist for the Dartmouth Chamber Singers, but after finishing the season with them she had chosen not to return for a second year. Walking past the rehearsal rooms on her way from a music composition class, she was amazed how such familiar scenes could hold so many memories.

There, on the bench in the foyer, they'd sat and talked until 1 in the morning after a rehearsal. The two of them had stared out the glass walls and watched the stars drift in the sky, Andrew pointing out constellations she would never have known to look for. In that room, with its blank white walls and single piano, he'd sat and watched as she practiced for hours on her first small group solo with the Singers, obsessing over every nuance until she'd gotten it right. At these doors, so identical to every double door on campus, they'd parted with a kiss too many times to count…

Shaking her head, she pulled herself out of the memories and choked back the tears that came with them. Quickly behind the tears came the anger, and she kicked an unsuspecting metal chair that sat in the hallway, sending it skittering down the freshly waxed floor. She sucked in a breath, watching as it slid to a stop, then gingerly made her way down after it and took it back to where it had sat. All she'd gotten for her outburst was a dose of reality in the form of a sore foot.

Perfect.

Setting her tablet bag and purse on the floor, she turned and sat on the chair, slowly loosening the laces on her boot. She eased it off and flexed her toes back and forth; pain flared, and she winced. Gingerly, she rubbed her foot, easing the pain down to a dull ache before putting her boot back on. "Stupid chair," she muttered, reaching for her bags.

Harsh notes broke out from down the hall. A pianist was rehearsing, and the piece was enough to make her pause. To say it was difficult to play would be an understatement; it was the most complex piece of music she'd ever heard. The notes came together faster than she would have thought possible, weaving in and out like a dance. Whoever played the piece was incredibly talented, reaching a level of skill on the piano Wil doubted she could ever match. She got by on a piano, certainly, but her skill was vocal.

What stopped her was not the complexity, though – it was the anger. If her anger had been explosive, the music was a battle. Notes punched out like shots, warring for attention, and she could practically feel the piano shake under their force.

Her hand closed around her bags, and Wil made her way down the hall, stopping outside of the door the music came from. Like all rehearsal rooms, there were no windows, and she wished briefly for a glimpse inside. The anger, so familiar to her, hurt. She wanted to offer what little comfort she might to whoever sat inside.

Slowly, creeping in like a fog, a second line emerged under the angry assault, and this one pulled at Wil's heart and brought tears to her eyes. Pain… So much pain. It was a sorrowful cry that hid beneath the anger, creeping into the notes and slowing the tempo gradually.

Suddenly, the music shifted. The anger was lost, the quick tempo left behind for something more gentle and familiar. Still, it was played marvelously, and she laid a hand on the door to the room. The tears spilled over, and she sang quietly, knowing the pianist would not hear her through the door.

_I'm gonna live my life  
Like every day's the last  
Without a simple goodbye  
It all goes by so fast._

And now that you're gone  
I can't cry hard enough  
No I can't cry hard enough  
For you to hear me now.

Gonna open my eyes  
And see for the first time  
I let go of you like  
A child letting go of his kite.

_There it goes up in the sky  
There it goes beyond the clouds  
For no reason why_

I can't cry hard enough  
No, I can't cry hard enough  
For you to hear me now. 

Her voice had faded to nothing by the time the song was done. Inside the room, the music faltered briefly before another seamless segue took it into a quiet rendition of Debussy's Clair de Lune. After a few shaky breaths, Wil took her hand from the door and brushed away the tears on her cheeks. She couldn't count how many times she had listened to that song since Andrew's death, and every time, she knew that someone, somewhere, had felt the same pain she was hiding.

Who was behind the chilling music?

She tossed aside the thought as quickly as it came. Every day, she hid the pain she carried with her, pretending there was nothing wrong when in reality nothing was right. Who was she to intrude in someone else's pain if she refused to share her own? With a soft sigh, she wished the pianist well and turned away, making her way down the hall and out the double doors.

"Wil! Oh, thank God, finally. Get over here!!"

Kate's excited voice caught Wil's attention as soon as she stepped out of the music building. Why Kate wouldn't come into the building was a mystery, but she claimed that there was a certain "mojo" to the building that she felt she couldn't intrude on. The same was said of the any building holding classes related to psychology or humanities, so as far as Wil could tell, the mojo was less about intruding and more about failing; as strong as she was in scientific fields, she struggled with the less precise subjects.

Without further warning, Kate rushed her, grabbing her arm and hauling her down the shoveled pathway. "What, class run late? Never mind. You have clue me in on the easiest songs when we get there tonight, so you have to get ready!"

Wil sighed. As much as she liked Rhonda, and even Eve, she sometimes just could not keep up with Kate.

"Listen, Kate," she began, pulling her arm out of the other woman's grasp. "I don't think-"

"No, I won't hear it!" Kate interrupted, holding up a hand. "You never do anything fun with us, and I'm sick of it. You have some kind of bad air around you that needs cleansing, and I am going to cleanse it. Come _on_!"

"Sorry, Wil," Rhonda's voice sounded behind them, and both she and Eve came walking up behind them, Eve studying her tablet and tracing lines with one gloved hand. She glanced up briefly, smiling and offering a small wave before going back to her reading. "You know how Kate is."

"You had to mention karaoke to her?" Wil asked, shaking her head.

"Of course she did! I am a part of all things fun!" Sprinting ahead, Kate scooped up a handful of snow and compacted it into a ball. "And those who do not agree with pay the consequences – muahaha!" She threw her head back in cheesy evil laughter that was cut short with the front of her jacket exploded in white. Eve tucked her tablet into bag, looking entirely innocent. Without a word, Kate flung her snowball. Her throw went wide, perhaps on purpose, and slammed into Rhonda's arm. She squealed, and her eyes narrowed.

"Now you're in for it," Eve snickered. All three bent for a handful of snow, and Wil hurried down the path and out of their way. Her face was warm, but her eyes would have betrayed her as she watched those three war in the snow, much as she and Andrew had done time and again.

Was everything supposed to come back to him? It wasn't fair! She wanted to scream. For a moment, she wished she could forget, could let go and enjoy without that familiar ache, and instantly she felt guilty for it. How could she want to forget him?

A snowball whacked into her from behind, and she turned to see her roommates panting, smiles bright on their faces.

"I thought we had some karaoke to get ready for?" she asked, forcing brightness into her tone. Kate gasped, reaching for her purse and pulling out a compact.

"Oh no!" she cried, running a hand through her hair. "My hair is ruined! Come on girls, we have some serious work to do!" She sprinted past Wil, the others laughing behind her.

When they reached their apartment, it was all business. Rhonda, Kate, and Eve fled to their rooms, sorting through outfits with wild abandon. Wil snuck into her own room, closing the door behind her, and took a moment before going to her closet. An hour and one extremely cramped bathroom mirror check later, they were dressed and ready. Rhonda had chosen a stunning navy dress and matching knee-high boots, Kate and Eve matching black numbers, and Wil a shimmering burgundy ankle-length dress that caught the red in her hair. Just in time, a knock came at the door.

"Boys!" Kate exclaimed, rushing over to throw the door open. Their dates at their sides, the three escorted women bundled into their coats and started out, dragging a hesitant Wil behind them.

"Nothing like being a seventh wheel," she mumbled, locking the apartment behind them. Then Rhonda grabbed her hand, squeezed it gently, and with a reassuring smile pulled her toward the stairs.

"Come on," she said lightly, "you can ride with me and Jeremy! I dropped a few hints where the Hotness could overhear me…maybe he'll show!"

"Oh? Someone I should be worried about?" Jeremy asked, holding the door open for them. Kate, Eve, and their dates wandered ahead, chatting and heading to the parking lot. Jeremy's hand ghosted against the small of Rhonda's back as they walked, and Wil looked pointedly away from the casual intimacy of the gesture.

"Hardly," Rhonda scoffed, raising onto her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "But a girl has to appreciate the scenery, right?"

Jeremy's car was a little black Ford sedan that had to be nearly as old as they were. It had been well kept over the years, and a recent paint job made it look newer than it was; only the style gave it away as a much older model. The lights flashed as they approached, and Wil nodded appreciatively; the systems had been upgraded as well to more current sensor locks. With a few quick steps, Jeremy pulled open both side doors and gave a slight bow.

"Ladies, our chariot awaits!"

- Can't Cry Hard Enough, Bellefire cover (Williams Brothers original)


	3. Purgatory

The problem, Edward decided as he paced across his spartan living room, wasn't that they were leaving - it was that he wasn't going with them. He would have no problem leaving this place behind. The one bedroom apartment suited his needs and nothing more, its living room holding a black leather chair and a black bookcase full of hard bound books that held little interest to him, its pitiful excuse for a bedroom hiding his grand piano away from prying eyes. He'd left the walls white, a stark contrast to the furniture, with no art or photos of any kind adorning them.

The only personalization the place held were two metal-framed photos that stood side by side on the small table beside his chair. Equally beautiful brides smiled out from the photos, standing in the same place, even wearing the same dress. On the right, a gorgeous woman with bronze curls piled atop her head posed on the arm of a dark skinned man, and on the left…

On the left, the most beautiful woman in history stood with an arm around him on the happiest day of his life, nearly two decades ago.

A quiet thump sounded from the bathroom, followed by a soft curse. Without a blink, Edward moved with supernatural speed to the door of the bathroom, peering in nervously. The worry fell from his face, and he swallowed a laugh as he stared at the woman laying on the bathroom floor.

"What _are_ you doing, Renesmee?" he asked, raising a single bronze eyebrow at his daughter. The bronze-haired beauty in the photo had found herself laying on her stomach on the black-and-white checkered floor, peering into an open cabinet under the sink. She had one arm in the cabinet, reaching into the darkness. Her brown eyes are narrowed in concentration until, with a quiet "a-ha!" she withdrew her hand and held up a thin platinum band.

"Took my ring off to wash my hands," she explained, sitting up and slipping it onto her finger. "Knocked it down and it bounced down here." When Edward didn't say anything, just watched in silence as she rose and brushed her jeans off, she admitted, "I knocked my head against a pipe when I was looking for it."

This time, Edward didn't bother trying to hide his laughter. Shaking his head, he stepped aside, letting her leave the bathroom ahead of him. "You are, perhaps, the only clumsy vampire in existence, my dear." She laughed with him, turning to face him when she reached the point where the hall to the door, the living room, and the bathroom's entrance met.

"It's in my blood," she told him with a wink. For a brief moment, Edward froze at the reference, but he recovered before even a second had passed and settled for an easy smile in response. The way she studied him told him that she had not missed his reaction. Reaching over, she took his hand, squeezing it gently. In his mind, the image of him laughing moments before played for him. _I like this,_ she thought, knowing he would hear it. He nodded, then changed the subject on her.

"You will call when you get there, right?" he asked, studying her intently.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Come on, Dad. I'm not 10."

"You weren't ten when you were ten, Nessie. Humor me," he chastised. "This is the first time you and Jacob have not been down the road." In truth, he was not really afraid for her safety; her clumsy streak aside, she was as fast and as strong as any vampire, and her shape-shifting husband was able to take care of any threat that she did not. It bothered him, however, to be away from her for any amount of time. She had been his reason for living, his whole world, and he wasn't sure how he would get by without her.

An image came to his mind unbidden of his brothers and sisters, and Renesmee smiled, accurately reading his expression. "Jasper is even enrolling in classes," she reminded him. "You can, I don't know, do lunch or something if you need a pick-me-up." The image in his mind changed, and Edward sat in a booth across from his blonde-haired brother, napkins spread on their laps, a waiter standing at their side, with a mountain lion laying on the table between them. He laughed again, and his daughter squeezed his hand once more before letting it go.

"Much better," she said with a firm nod. "I still think you should have moved in with them." There was little conviction in her words; this was a months' old argument between the two of them, and he knew she no more expected him to relent than she expected him to order pizza for dinner. Always one to pander to her, he pretended to consider for a moment, touching one finger to his chin.

"Let me see. I can enjoy the silence and privacy of my own abode, or share a house with two incredibly amorous couples." He grinned at her. "I will move in if you do."

She made a face at him. "Please! I don't need my aunts and uncles listening in on my marriage!"

"And I do not need to listen in on theirs," he concluded, patting her on the shoulder. "I will be fine. Go – you deserve some time to yourself." He pulled her into an embrace, his cold skin meeting the heat of hers like yin and yang, two opposites that were never uncomfortable together. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly, then pulled back to place a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," she told him. "I love you all, but Jake and I… We need some time to ourselves. We've been together ten years now and have never been on our own!"

"I know, I know." He shook his head as he stepped away from her. "Now get out of here before that husband of yours shows up and makes my apartment smell of dog." Renesmee socked him gently on the shoulder and turned, picked her green Armada purse up off the floor and settling it on her shoulder.

"I love you, Dad," she told him, and he nodded.

"I love you too, Nessie."

She let herself out, and he threw the deadbolt behind her, then stood by the door listening. He gave her mind as much privacy as he could, refusing to listen in to her thoughts, but he tracked her heartbeat as she retreated down the hall and out of the building. It took a lot of will power not to go to the window and watch as she slid into the car with Jacob and drive away; the image of her rolling away from him and disappearing into the distance would be worse than the silence that settled over him in place of her fluttering heartbeat.

When the purr of the engine was gone, Edward let out a long, low sigh and went to his chair. Collapsing back into it, he ignored the groan of the reinforced structure Esme had built into it and leaned his head back into the cushion.

His eyes found their favorite place on the ceiling, an uneven bump in the plaster ceiling that looked, with some imagination, like the curve of a pair of lips, and let his mind shut down. His breathing stopped, the natural-looking ticks of blinking and shifting ceased, and he sat still as stone, allowing the time to pass him by.

Renesmee was gone, off to Florida to enjoy the sun and the beach without having to feel guilty for leaving her vampire family behind. It would be good for her, he knew, and certainly good for Jacob to be away from the rest of them. He had never settled fully into the family, remaining close because of his imprinted bond with Edward's daughter but never truly bonding with any of them… Except Renesmee, of course. He was the glue between them all.

Just like her mother had been.

Edward closed his eyes and, in his perfect memory, began to relive his time with Bella once again. He always felt like his memory had missed some vital aspect of her, that the picture in his mind never lived up to what had been the reality of her despite being photographic. Still, he let the memories sweep him away as he often did.

Time spent away from Renesmee was spent this way with Bella, hearing her voice, seeing her smile. He secluded himself, spending hours if not days, days if not weeks replaying every minute of their time together. The stabbing pain it left in his hollow chest was matched only by the emptiness of his hands as he longed to touch her, to feel her one more time.

It was better than living in the reality of this purgatory without her.

At least, with his daughter, he could pretend to be…not happy, everyone knew him too well to believe him happy, but he would pretend that life carried on without Bella.

A knock sounded at the door, and Edward snarled as he was pulled out of his memories. He didn't bother to open his eyes as he muttered, "Go away, Alice."

_You have a class this morning,_ she reminded him brusquely, then knocked on the door again to keep up appearances. _You _promised_, Edward._

Pushing himself to his feet, he stalked over to the door, unlocking it and yanking it open roughly. "I shouldn't have," he grumbled at her, staring darkly into her golden eyes. She sniffed in disdain, staring back at him from beneath her wild black hair. She'd put on bright eye shadow and ruby lipstick, and some brand of blush that gave her pale skin a faint rosy hue.

"If you're trying to intimidate me, it isn't working," she informed him, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. She gave him a shove from behind. "Go. Get your bag and meet me at the car in 5 minutes. We didn't go back to school for you to ditch."

Edward muttered darkly as he followed her orders, retrieving a black bag from the closet that held his tablet computer – a slim thing that was no larger than a note pad, with a stylus that fit into the top corner and a touch screen – and a pair of sunglasses. He shouldered the bag, then thought better of it, setting it down and pulling on a heavy jacket first. It had been years since he'd had to maintain any kind of human charade, and he was still getting back into old habits. Picking up his bag again, he grabbed the keys from a hook by the door and let himself out, locking up behind him.

Not for the first time, Edward wondered why he had allowed his siblings – mostly Alice – to talk him into returning to school after so long. The days were long and tedious, filled with the buzz of painfully shallow thoughts and the drone of professors who were outmatched only by Edward in their cynicism. Of course, the idea had thrilled Carlisle and Esme, especially since he was studying medicine; it had been so long since the scent of human blood had even remotely appealed to him that he would finally complete a residency, after beginning degrees a handful of times for Carlisle and dropping out when it came time to do anything hands-on. A part of him wondered if that was a part of why Bella had died. For all his theoretical knowledge, he had little experience, and maybe that would have made the difference…

In the end, he had given in to his sister's meddling and applied to Dartmouth's medical school, telling himself that it would benefit him if anything ever happened to Renesmee. The look on Charlie's face when Carlisle had told him his daughter had died haunted Edward constantly, one particular memory he wished he had not found in his father's mind. Edward wasn't sure how he had survived losing Bella, but he knew he would not survive losing Renesmee as well.

"You're late, and you're brooding," Alice commented as she opened the door to the back seat of their new black Porsche. _You're supposed to be happy today!_ she told him silently, and her stern expression cracked into a smile. Briefly, he wondered what she meant by that, but she had started to go through her schedule for the day in her mind and pick out all the moments she would be able to steal away with her husband. "Let's go."

Striding past her, Edward sat down in the back of the car, nodding to Jasper and reaching for his seat belt. He returned the nod, and a brief pulse of calm eased Edward's hesitation. "Thanks," he muttered as Alice let herself into the passenger seat.

"Nessie get on the road all right?" he asked, turning forward and starting the car. He touched the navigation screen and let the system take control, gliding the car onto the street.

"They left this morning," Edward confirmed for them. His face twisted for a moment before he caught himself, staring out the window as the scenery slipped by at a painfully slow pace. The automatic control of cars was a safety boon, but to most of the Cullens, it was one of the first modifications they made to any new cars. Jasper had only arrived the day before, returning from a brief trip to Denali to check on their cousins up north, and obviously had not had time to work on the car yet.

_I'm sorry,_ Jasper offered. "Did she say when they would be visiting?"

"Christmas," Alice announced. "I've seen it. Oh! And I'm going to love the present she brings back for me!" Jasper chuckled, reaching over and squeezing her knee fondly. Taking his hand into her own, Alice beamed.

"Quit peeking," Jasper chastised her warmly, looking over at her and shaking his head. "You know she likes trying to surprise you."

Alice pouted. "You know I can't help it, Jazz! Besides, I think our brother here is the only one that could surprise me right now." She turned on him and said, "I would be _very_ happily surprised if you decided to come out with us tonight!"

Edward rolled his eyes and continued to stare out the window. When Alice sighed and turned away, she grumbled, "I'm just trying to _help_." As much as he knew it, it didn't irritate him any less, and Edward let himself fall back into his memories rather than dwell on her well-meant annoyance. They would 'wake' him when they arrived on campus and he had to fill another tedious day with classes.


	4. A Debt Owed

"Just give it up, Alice," Rosalie said, rolling her eyes and turning away. She strode over to the coffee table, snatching up her purse and unzipping it. She pulled out her headset phone, tucking it into her ear and turning back to her sister. "He hasn't quit sulking at home in all this time, why would he stop now?"

"But he hasn't hunted in a _month_!" Alice exclaimed. She threw her hands up in frustration.

"Edward is a big boy, he'll eat when he's hungry," Rose answered with a shrug. "I want to go out tonight, so either come on, or I'll go without you." Pulling a compact out of her purse, she flipped it open and studied her reflection for a moment, reaching up to put a stray lock of hair back into place.

The shorter woman sighed. "Maybe Emmett and Jasper can convince him…"

"I'm sitting right here, you know," Edward broke in. Both women spun to him, eyebrows raised in surprise. Ignoring them both, he reached for the remote control that sat on the mahogany coffee table in front of him, turning the TV on. The widescreen television took up most of the wall of the living room, with a stand beneath it that was covered with wireless controls and keyboards for various gaming consoles and computers collected over the years.

Edward's four siblings had bought a house on the outskirts of Hanover when they'd decided to attend Dartmouth this fall, a brick-covered bungalow with two floors and a full basement that Esme had been delighted to finish for them. The agreement was that Jasper and Alice shared the basement, Rosalie and Emmett the upper level, and the main floor was shared space between them. It was smaller than the houses they usually lived in, but with only the four of them in it, there was more than enough room for them all. In their mother's usual taste, the living room was classically designed, with a full set – couch, love seat, and chair – in a rich chocolate color and a beige-and-brown checkerboard rug on the hardwood floors. With the television taking up one wall and a portrait window beside the door, Esme had decided to simply add scroll work along the top of the cream colored walls, giving the room an aged feeling.

"Then tell Alice to lay off so we can get going," Rosalie snapped, stepping between Edward and the TV. She set her hands on her hips. "We all know you aren't going with us."

Edward set the remote down, staring up at her. He could care less if she blocked his view of – he glanced around her for a moment – the History Channel, but the attitude was beginning to wear on him. "What if I am?" he challenged, and her lips curled into a smirk.

"Then come on," she said, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder and going to the door. She opened it, holding it for him. "After you."

"Yay!" Alice exclaimed a moment before Edward rose to his feet. He grabbed his coat off the couch and pulled it on.

They took Rosalie's brand new Mustang, a cherry red convertible, out of town, parking it at one of the many rest stops that allowed parking and access to the trails outside the Hanover area itself. The lights on the Mustang flashed, and the three of them sped off at full speed. Edward took a deep breath, taking in the smells around him. He quickly dismissed the familiar scents of his sisters, but there was something deeper, richer than them in the air, and he angled toward it automatically. Alice and Rosalie branched away, Alice giving him a satisfied smile and thinking, _I'm glad you're opening up to us_.

He wasn't, really. As he took down the moose, draining it quickly, he wondered if Alice would ever understand where he was coming from. He hunted because he needed to if he was going to continue to exist. He came over to their house once a week, playing video games and chess and watching TV, because it made them happy. There was a debt owed to each of them; they had put their new lives on hold to come to Dartmouth with him, to support him in his attempt to make something out of the ashes of his existence, something he was doing only because he knew it made Renesmee happy.

If he had his way, he would spend all his time in his memories of Bella. Nothing more.

Dropping the moose, he began to dig a grave for it, using his bare hands to carve out a space of earth to hide the remains. Many people took nature walks, even at this time of year, and it forced his family to hide any signs of their hunting. Twilight was approaching, and Edward stood back to regard his handiwork, deciding that no one would see any sign of it, even in the full light of day. He was not fully satisfied, but the large animal had been enough to get him by, and he slowly made his way back to Rosalie's car. Briefly, he listened in to the thoughts of the others, and he could tell they would be a little while longer; he settled himself onto the ground by her car, leaning back on one of the wheels.

For a change, he did not lose himself in thoughts of his lost wife. Instead, he recalled the years between, marveling at the achievements of them all. Bella, rest her soul, had been a catalyst for them all. They had stayed together for the first decade, moving up to a secluded part of Alaska not too far from Denali while his daughter matured far faster than they could hide from any nearby humans. Her lack of a mother never seemed to phase her; why would it? With her father, two aunts, two uncles, and a pair of doting grandparents – not to mention the 'big brother' she had in Jacob, who remained with them steadfast in his devotion for his imprint – there was never want for time, energy, or love. Rosalie had stepped into the most motherly role of them all, and while she would never say it aloud, she was incredibly thankful Edward had allowed her to do so.

Once Renesmee had reached her full maturity, looking 17 though acting much older, the family had moved to London and begun the next era of their existence. The loss of Bella had seemed to remind the couples how important they were to each other, and they agreed on a rotating schedule that would allow the majority of the family to be near Renesmee while still having individual vacations. Alice and Jasper first, then Rosalie and Emmet had gone off on 5 year trips, returning to visit often but living entirely separate from the family.

Alice had begun a career for herself as a fashion designer, submitting sketches to a popular magazine's contest. When she won, which she knew she would, she was offered a contract to work in New York. The couple had moved there, and Jasper quickly situation himself as a history teacher, continuing to build his control by surrounding himself with students daily. Jasper had found a teaching job at a small private school when they had returned to the family, and Alice worked remotely for a few years, flying back to the states from time to time to see her work on display.

Rosalie and Emmett had not gone so far during their 5 year break, Rose hesitant to be so far from Renesmee. Only a day's drive away, at their speeds, the couple had opened their own garage and surrounded themselves with expensive cars to tinker, repair, and improve. It was, perhaps, the happiest Edward had ever seen her standoffish sister, especially when she lay side by side with Renesmee under a car, teaching the young woman her way around an engine.

Edward sighed, staring at the clouds overhead. They had all given up so much to return to school with him. Like everything in his life, it had been an entirely selfish move, forcing them all to drop everything for his own ridiculous whim. Perhaps he should drop out, allow them all their own-

"No, Edward."

Alice appeared over him, staring down with a dissatisfied expression. "Jasper is hoping he can use this experience to start teaching at a college level, and there are a lot of opportunities here for all of us. Don't you dare run off on us."

Rosalie snorted behind her, striding past. The car's lights flashed and Edward heard the locks open with a dull thud. "What a coward," she commented. "Runs away the minute anything gets difficult. What _did_ Carlisle see in you?"

"Rose…" Alice said in a warning tone. Edward heard her door open, and she slipped into the car without comment. Offering Edward a hand, Alice pulled him to his feet and shook her head at him.

_Bear with us a while longer, Edward, please,_ she begged silently, her rich golden eyes full of emotions Edward would rather not catalogue. He caught a flash of an image in her mind, him seated behind a piano, before deflecting her mind toward their hunt. Pulling open his door, he blocked out her thoughts again, not caring about the deer she had just taken down. He had known for a while she was hiding something from him, but there was nothing she could throw his way that would matter, not really.

"So, come out with us tonight?" Alice asked him as she settled into the car. "I have the best outfit you could wear, Edward - one of my own designs!"

"I don't think so," he told her, staring out the window as the car began to move.

Alice pouted. "You could at least pretend to consider it," she admonished. "I know Em and Jazz would love it if you came."

Edward sighed, turning to look at his sister with one eyebrow raised. When she merely stared back, her expression bland, he said, "I am not really the karaoke type, Alice, but thank you. I am sure my brothers will understand."

"They always try to understand you. Perhaps you should give it a try the other way sometime," Rosalie said. Edward turned to her, knowing fully that he deserved every bit of disdain she handed him. While she had been forgiving at first, she had grown tired of the depression he fell into after Bella's death. He would be upset with her if he did not know that it came from her hopes that antagonism might finally spur him into action. "If you let yourself have a little fun sometimes, maybe you would be a little easier to be around."

She had never lost Emmett, never even come close, he counseled himself as his anger flared briefly. He wanted to snap at her, to illuminate her to exactly how much he wished it were that easy. If she had any idea what it was like to lose a mate, she might understand. Only he knew this pain he carried.

"If you let yourself be less of a bitch sometimes, maybe you would be a little easier to be around," he told her, turning to stare back out the window. Rosalie's reflection in the window smirked back at him.

"There's the brother I like to see."


	5. Been Here All Along

The place was packed. Rhonda stumbled her way down off the stage into Jeremy's waiting arms, threading her fingers through his shaggy black hair and pulling him into a kiss that lasted just a little too long. Wil smirked and turned her eyes back to the stage, taking a sip of beer. A pitcher stood in the center of their table, nearly drained, though she'd had little to do with that. The same could not be said of the others; Kate sat on Max's lap, who tonight had streaks of green and blue in his short brown hair (it was different every time Wil saw him), and Eve leaned into the arms of a man whose name Wil had missed in the introductions and looked like he'd walked out of a GQ photo shoot in a suit jacket and slacks. They both had put away a few, and Wil saw the telltale signs in each of them. Eve reverted to her Kansas accent when she was drunk, and Kate got surprisingly quiet. The latter was a nice change, one that let Wil fade into the background and watch the crowd around them.

She had expected a terribly painful evening, but this had turned out to be a good idea after all. With most of her time spent at the table, Wil enjoyed people watching, soaking up the laughter and enthusiasm around her. Six months ago, the sight of so many couples happily together would have pained her, but that had faded into a quiet jealousy that was entirely bearable. After all, she didn't want to join them – she had no interest in finding another – and if she couldn't be happy they might as well be.

Rhonda got back to the table just as the next poor sap was getting up on stage. She nearly fell into her chair beside Wil and gasped audibly.

"Hotness came!" she announced, pointing at the man on stage.

"Hey," Jeremy protested, settling behind her and leaning on her shoulders. "I've been here all along, baby."

Rhonda giggled, much to Wil's chagrin, and the two of them surveyed the man on stage. Knowing Rhonda's preference for tall and dark, Hotness surprised Wil. About average height, he had sharp features and wavy blonde hair. He was wearing a simple cream sweater and tight jeans, but he pulled the look off well, even if he looked a little stiff. He shot someone off stage a dirty look – someone didn't want to be up on stage – as the music started, then took the mic.

_Love is a burning thing_

_And it makes a firey ring_

_Bound by wild desire_

_I fell into a ring of fire_

He was good. Very good, in fact. Wil couldn't place the song, but the man's deep baritone was seductive. A few women squealed in delight behind their table, and the singer turned his smoldering gaze toward them, giving a cocky grin. His eyes, Wil noticed, were an incredible liquid amber color. She may have chuckled if they weren't so expressive; she'd always found eye dying to leave a person's eyes flat, but his seemed deep and soulful.

_The taste of love is sweet_

_When hearts like ours meet_

_I fell for you like a child_

_Oh, but the fire went wild_

By the second verse, a second man had made his way onto stage, much more what Wil would have expected Hotness to look like – easily over 6 feet, with cropped black hair and muscles like a body builder. He snatched up the second mic and the two of them sang together, the big one making kissy faces at someone in the crowd between lines. The first one rolled his eyes, and the big one elbowed him playfully.

The second had the same color eyes, again with none of the dull color of a typical dye job.

Must be rich.

The song ended and the crowd went wild. Two women climbed onto the stage, grinning wildly. One, a tall and absolutely gorgeous blonde, went straight for the taller frat boy while a tiny pixie of a woman with spiky black hair threw her arms around the blonde.

"Aw damn," Rhonda commented, raising her glass and draining it. "Guess I can't hook you up with the Hotness after all."

The girls shooed their men off stage and cued up a rather current-sounding pop song that got most of the crowd dancing. Someone tapped Wil on the shoulder, and she looked up to find Jeremy smiling down at her.

"Rhon and I are leaving if you want a ride home," he told her, holding up his car activator and shaking it gently. Wil shook her head; if he and Rhonda were going home this early, it meant they had other things planned, and she had no interest in listening in.

"You guys go on, I'll catch a cab later." Rhonda gave her a grateful look and Wil shooed them away, turning back to the stage. Rising from her table, she grabbed the pitcher and started for the bar, shaking her head with a forced smile. It quickly turned into a chuckle as she noticed both of the women on stage had the same eye color as their boyfriends.

"Pretty magnificent, aren't they?" a voice asked to her left as she reached the bar. The bartender gave a crooked grin as he took the pitcher from her, raising an eyebrow.

"Bud Lite," she told him, leaning both elbows on the bar. "And yeah, that's a lot of talent crammed into a small group of people." She watched as the man took a few steps down to the taps and started to fill her pitcher. His bleach-blonde hair was pulled back into a loose tail, bits of a deeper brown showing at the roots, and he wore an unassuming tee and jeans with a hole in one knee.

"They're here every week," he told her, setting the pitcher down and waiting as it filled. Turning to her, he added, "They sing a different style every time too, always one song each. Mac's tried to sign them a few times to do real shows, but they say they prefer just to come to open mic…doesn't bother me none. They draw a good crowd of regulars."

On stage, the shorter woman was bouncing up and down to the beat of the music, her black miniskirt starting to ride up. "Yeah, I can see that," Wil remarked, causing the bartender to snort as he topped up the pitcher.

"Certainly not hard to look at, those two. I prefer the blonde myself, but plenty of the guys like the shorter one – say she looks spunky." He drifted back toward Wil, setting the pitcher down. She pulled out a card and held it out for him.

"I guess they're students here?" she asked as he pulled a handheld scanner out from under the bar and scanned her card.

"Yup. The two blondes are juniors, the little one's a soph, and they say the big one's here on some kind of freshman football scholarship, but I've never seen him play."

"He's a _freshman?_" she questioned as she pocketed her card.

The bartender shrugged. "I get all my info second hand, if you know what I mean. They never drink anything."

"Huh." Wil grabbed the pitcher, nodding her thanks and making her way back to their table. On stage, the girls ad libbed their way through the end of the song, turning mics to the crowd – they certainly knew how to work it. As she settled back at her table, they flounced off stage, and Wil poured herself another beer. Kate, Eve, and their men were nowhere to be found, probably off in some corner having a bit too much fun, so she leaned back and went back to crowd watching as another brave soul climbed on stage.

-Ring of Fire, Johnny Cash


	6. Sand & Water

Wil rocked side to side as she waited to upload her composition. After finally dragging herself home from the club, she had collapsed into bed and woken hours later to spend all weekend holed up in a rehearsal room finalizing her first official composition. Her hands almost shook as she approached the professor's desk; everyone in the class seemed calm and collected, she thought, and began to doubt herself for even taking the course. It was times like this she missed Andrew most.

"Don't worry, dear heart," he'd murmured to her many times before when the jitters caught her. "You are marvelous. Beyond marvelous. You can do anything…"

The TA cleared his throat, and she startled, coming back to reality. Plugging the thumb drive into the waiting port, she nodded, and the young man in front of her pressed a button. A few seconds later, he thanked her, and she pocketed the drive as she made her way out the door. It was done, good or bad, and if it was bad she didn't actually need this course for her degree; it was just something Andrew had talked her into the year before that she had always wanted to do.

"I felt like I was handing over my first born," a woman from her class announced, falling into step beside her. Mary, Wil thought, though she wasn't brave enough to voice it. She was a pleasant woman with tight curls and warm brown eyes that often took a seat beside her. "That was rough."

"Tell me about it," Wil chuckled, offering Mary a slight smile. "At least it's over, right?"

"Yeah," the woman agreed. "I'm gonna go grab a coffee – want to join me?" They pushed through a door and started down the stairs to the main floor.

Wil raised her eyebrows for a moment, quickly catching herself and shaking her head. "I'd love to, but I've got to meet up with someone – catch me another time?"

"Sure thing." They reached the bottom of the stairs and she nodded, turning out the closest set of doors. Watching her go, Wil hesitated, then turned down the hall and started to cross through the building. She went slowly, wondering for a moment if she shouldn't have just gone for coffee.

Then, she heard it. At the end of the hall, from the same room, came the soft sound of piano music. It was a new song, another composition she was unfamiliar with, gentle and loving and incredibly complex. It seemed to breathe with a life of its own, and Wil went to the door, sitting outside and letting the music wash over her. Last time, the song had been a sort of affirmation, validating her emotions. Today, instead, it was a balm on her soul, so filled with love and hope that she warmed to the sound.

Slowly, it changed, and again it was a song she knew. Softly, she sang, once again letting her grief out in ways she never allowed herself.

_All alone I didn't like the feeling  
All alone I sat and cried  
All alone I had to find some meaning  
In the center of the pain I felt inside_

All alone I came into this world  
All alone I will someday die  
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby  
Sand and water, and a million years gone by

I will see you in the light of a thousand suns  
I will hear you in the sound of the waves  
I will know you when I come, as we all will come  
Through the doors beyond the grave

All alone I heal this heart of sorrow  
All alone I raise this child  
Flesh and bone, he's just  
Bursting towards tomorrow  
And his laughter fills my world and wears your smile

I will see you in the light of a thousand suns  
I will hear you in the sound of the waves  
I will know you when I come, as we all will come  
Through the doors beyond the grave

All alone I came into this world  
All alone I will someday die  
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby  
Sand and water and a million years gone by

Once again, as the words and notes floated away, the music flowed gracefully into another song. Wil did not listen for long, the classical notes washing over her as she rose and gathered her belongings. From her purse she pulled a small bag of Kleenex, and she dried her eyes before heading toward the exit, leaving the music behind with a whispered goodbye to the pianist.

As she went to push the door open, it disappeared from in front of her, and she stumbled forward. She came to a halt with a vicious thump, and a pair of hands grasped her shoulders, steadying her as the door closed behind her.

"I'm sorry," a rich voice said, pushing her back onto her feet. She stumbled again before catching herself, and she rolled her eyes. Nothing like looking like a total fool…

"No, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she muttered, shifting her tablet bag on her shoulder as she stepped backward out of other's grasp. As she looked up, she found herself staring into deep, and familiar, amber eyes. She couldn't help the small gasp she gave, immediately regretting it when Hotness chuckled.

"No blood, no foul," he assured her, holding up his hands once he was sure she had finally caught her balance. He had a slight accent that made her think of cowboy hats and times long past, though she thought that may go back to the song he'd sang the other night. From afar, he hadn't really done anything for her, but up close she could see exactly what Rhonda meant – and why she was so infatuated with him. Not, of course, that she had any interest in any man but Andrew.

She could still appreciate a fine piece of art though.

Ducking her head, a slight blush crept into her cheeks and she excused herself. She stepped around him quickly, hurrying down the sidewalk and wishing she hadn't heard his laugh behind her.

Well, she consoled herself as she made her way back to her apartment, at least now she had a way to get Rhonda off her back about breaking Hotness up with his girlfriend. There was no way he would be interested in the crazy woman that practically threw herself at him outside the music building. A frigid wind cut through the campus, sending a shiver through her, and she hunched her shoulders against it. She shut the doors in her mind before the memories of similar winter walks with Andrew could come creeping in, choosing instead of sprint the last stretch to her apartment building and escape into the warmth it offered.

Someone else had just arrived, and she waved her thanks as he held the door open for her, ducking through and taking the stairs at a sprint. Wil rubbed her hands together before reaching for her keys.

"I'm home!" she called as she kicked the door shut behind her. There was no answer; the girls hadn't made it home yet. Quickly hanging her coat, she headed into her room, throwing her tablet bag onto her bed.

It wasn't much, but her bedroom offered her the most solace she found these days. No one came in but her; it was an unspoken rule that her room was sacred, and the others respected it. A black metal daybed, covered with a thick green comforter, took up easily a third of the space; three pillows sat at the head, each with a different colored pillow case: red, yellow, and blue, solid and bright. Andrew had always mocked her for refusing to color-coordinate, but the splash of color made her smile, and the cases were the softest flannel she'd ever found. The side table was a matching black stand with a glass top, holding nothing but her alarm clock; everything else lived on the armoire-style desk against the opposite wall.

An ornate jewelry box sat on top of the desk, a gift from her mother on her sixteenth birthday. The desk itself was covered with sheet music. Text books and notes were all electronic, but there was something about the texture of true sheet music that she preferred to the scanned copies. A single picture frame hid in the shadows at the back of the desk: she stood with Andrew in front of the fountain where he'd proposed, their arms wrapped around each other, her smile brighter than it had been in half a year.

She barely gave it a second glance most days, but his presence helped her sleep on lonely nights.

She hung her purse on the hook she'd placed on the back of the door, then cleared a spot on the desk, stacking the sheet music carefully in a pile. Taking her tablet out of its bag, she set it down, plugging it in to let it charge. Then, after a moment's thought, she picked up the photo and traced the line of Andrew's jaw.

"I _will_ see you again," she told him softly, placing a kiss on the glass and setting the photo down. "I don't know about the light of a thousand suns…that was when you were here. But I'll see you all the same."

She heard the door open and gave the picture one last, lingering glance before leaving the sanctuary of her room.

- Sand and Water, Beth Nielsen Chapman


	7. We Need You

Edward sat at the wooden mini-upright piano, his eyes closed and his mind 20 years and a thousand miles away. The plain room around him had faded away, leaving only the wooden bench beneath him and the ivory keys his fingers danced over. Instead, he was in the back yard of his home in Forks, Bella in his arms as they danced effortlessly. He could almost feel the warmth of her, could almost get lost eternally in the depths of her brown eyes, could almost hear her voice singing to him as they danced. She wore her wedding dress, and he his tux, but the guests were nowhere to be found; instead, it was just the two of them and the sounds of the twilight around them as she settled her head on his shoulder, a tiny sigh escaping her lips.

He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head, burying himself in her hair, breathing a scent that was intoxicating to him even as the faint memory it had become. He allowed the song to shift as Bella's angelic singing ended, and he pulled her closer to him. Softly, he whispered all the things he longed to say to her, how much he loved her, how much he missed her, how much he never wanted to be without her… They floated around the yard together without a care in the world for anything but each other, Edward allowing himself to exist in the softness of her breathing and the quiet beating of her heart.

_Amazing; she's almost as bad as Edward._

The stray thought tore him from his reverie, and though he tried to tighten his grasp around Bella, she evaporated like smoke on the wind. A growl ripped its way out of his throat as he pried his eyes open, his hands crashing down on the piano keys and letting out a dissonant chord. This was _his_ room, _his_ escape. He had promised his family that he would attend school, and he did, but he had found these rehearsal rooms open for all the first week here, and he made a point of visiting daily in the breaks between his classes. Here, unlike his apartment, he could play as long and as loud as he pleased, pressing out the din of the world around him for sweet moments in Bella's embrace.

An unnecessary knock sounded at the door, and Edward gave another soft growl.

"Please, Edward, tone it down a little," Jasper muttered from the other side of the door, trying the knob gently and finding it locked. A gentle wash of calm came over Edward as he rose to his feet, and he shook his head.

"Knock it off," he grumbled as he crossed the room slowly, flipping the lock and opening the door. Jasper gave him an abashed look, but his thoughts held no guilt.

Without saying anything, Jasper nodded down the hall. Edward picked up his bag and turned the lights off, falling into step beside his brother. They left the building, making a show of shivering as they stepped into the cold air outside and passing a group of students that passed them on the stairs.

Edward waited impatiently for Jasper to speak, sifting through the man's thoughts to try to glean any purpose he might have for interrupting him so rudely. Unfortunately, Jasper was meticulously going over the classes he'd attended that day, and Edward retreated back into his own mind quickly; he had little interest in the rudimentary teaching concepts and psychology Jasper was studying for his latest degree.

"Carlisle called," Jasper said finally as they paused at a corner. A car drove by, and they started to walk again. "He said he tried to call you, but you didn't answer?"

Edward shrugged. "Forgot it at home," he explained, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. Phones were distractions he could easily do without.

"Bullshit." Leading them into a parking garage, Jasper pulled an activator out of his pocket and tossed it into the air idly, catching it. He did this a few more times, and though he tried to keep Edward blocked, the mind-reader caught the frustrated tone and snippets of the conversation his brother wanted to have as Jasper searched for the best way to continue.

"Edward, when I agreed to come back to school, it was because I felt it was truly the best move for our family," he began, and Edward smirked at him.

"It was because Alice asked you to," he commented, and Jasper had the grace to nod, accepting the point.

"That too," he agreed. "But I was hoping I could finally fix our unit. Ali and I, we are finally starting lives we really enjoy. No more high school. College when we want to, not because we need to. If we are going to continue on that path, we need everyone to be in top form to avoid any suspicion."

Edward nodded, glancing up at the lights to Jasper's Porsche flashed. He stepped around to the passenger side, taking the front seat after seeing in Jasper's mind that Alice wouldn't be joining them. Once they had settled into the seats, Jasper turned to him rather than starting the car.

"You know as well as I that one misstep in a career can end it permanently. This isn't school where we just pick up and move and start over again; people will recognize Alice's style even if she changes her name. She would have to give it up. I don't want that to happen."

Edward stared silently back at him, allowing him to say his piece. Jasper sighed. "We need you. You know we do. Ali can only watch the future so much, so well. I appreciate your need to…be elsewhere, Edward. It's obvious how much it anchors you. But please, fill your role too. I can help ease your pain; that's why I enrolled. Just – pay attention to the world around you. We need a good scout to warn us when danger is over the hill."

He brought the car to life then, and the engine began to purr softly. Edward struggled with a flare of irritation, turning away to hide his reaction even though he knew Jasper would feel it in him. The beast in him wanted to roar back, to curse him for his selfishness; of _course_ it would be about him, with no regard for Edward's perpetual damnation. He realized, however, that Jasper had every right to look out for his own welfare and that of his mate.

There was also the little detail of Jasper being right. Before Bella, Edward had always been their first line of defense to tell when people were beginning to wonder about their family more than was safe. Alice could only see the outcome of choices; Edward could alert them before any choices were made.

Jasper pulled the car smoothly out of the parking garage and onto the street before allowing the auto-nav to take control. Taking a moment to compose himself, Edward leaned forward, putting his head in his hands.

"You're right," Edward said finally, embracing the wave of calm that Jasper offered him. "This was a bad idea."

"No," his brother told him firmly. "I don't need my wife's sight to know you need this. Carlisle is out of his skin with pride that you want to follow in his footsteps, and everyone is just thrilled you are speaking again outside of Nessie's presence. If you go back to being a total emo, so help me Edward, I will drop you in the middle of the Atlantic."

Edward couldn't help the quirk of his lips or the slight chuckle at the image Jasper brought to his mind. "A total emo? You have been spending too much time with Emmett."

"Well, if a certain other brother of mine would be more willing to socialize, I might not have to," he countered with a grin. It was a conversation they'd had countless times over the past decade, never with much success, and neither of them expected anything to come of it. Still, Edward resolved to try, just as he always did.

It was just so _hard._ Everything about this life without Bella was next to impossible. Carlisle had told him, once, that he only knew of one other vampire who had gone on to survive the loss of their mate, and Marcus was hardly a role model he aspired to. He could see how easy it would be, however, to sink into ambivalence. If it wasn't for Renesmee…

Jasper cleared his throat and pressed another wave of calm onto his brother. "Sorry," Edward muttered, picking his head up and watching out the window.

"I'm used to it."

The pair settled into an almost-comfortable silence as the car carried them toward Edward's apartment. If Edward was honest, he preferred Jasper's company to nearly everyone's because of the instant calm he offered, a balm that made the pain almost bearable. It was second, of course, only to his daughter; where Jasper was able to patch the gaping hole in his chest, Renesmee filled it – not completely, not by half, but she shed some light in the darkness and gave him a warmth, a sense of life, that was otherwise devoid. He was also well aware that his presence was painful for Jasper, and after his selfishness had cost himself and Bella so much, he had vowed never to be such a pariah again.

Jasper touched a button, regaining control of the car and pulling it to the curb in front of the small apartment building Edward spent much of his time in. It wasn't much to look at, with white-washed walls and bare vine trellises, but it served its purpose. Popping open his door, Edward stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Come over sometime," Jasper said quietly. "Ali would be thrilled if you did, and I wouldn't be too unhappy myself."

With a non-committal grunt, Edward closed the door and walked away. He tapped the code into the door panel and let himself in, retreating quickly to the solitude of his apartment. His bag found its typical spot, but instead of going straight to his chair, Edward hesitated.

While he hated to admit it, he hadn't spoken to Carlisle, his maker and, to all purposes, father, since the beginning of the semester. He gleaned information on him and Esme from the minds of others, memories of their calls and vid-chats; the two had made their way from London to Brazil, spending a couple months visiting friends in the Amazon before taking a boat out to Isle Esme. He knew they had bigger plans for their vacation away from the family, but after being parents for so long to their flock of vampire-teenagers, the time alone was doing them both a lot of good. So he had heard.

After lingering a moment, he shoved away the memories of that particular island, as well as any speculation to what his parents were doing to fill their time. He could imagine far too well what they were up to in their solitude. Crossing his tiny living room, he plucked his headset off the charging mat and tucked it into his ear.

"Call Carlisle," he said quietly, listening as a tone confirmed his command and the line began to ring. As the fourth ring ticked off, Edward reached up to disconnect the call, but his father's voice stopped him.

"Carlisle here," he said smoothly, and Edward heard the distinct sound of Esme giggling in the background. He refused to even think about what he might have interrupted.

"Carlisle, it's Edward."

"Edward!" Carlisle greeted him warmly. "It is unbelievably good to hear your voice, son. I hope this is a purely recreational call?"

"Yes, everything is fine," Edward assured him. "Jasper told me you called, and I just wanted to catch up. It reminded me that it has been quite a while since we spoke, and I also wanted to let you know Renesmee and Jacob got out fine…"


	8. Behind the Piano

The weeks until winter break fell into a comfortable pattern and passed faster than Wil expected. Weeks were filled with class and homework, finalizing papers and preparing for midterm review. She knew from last year that January came quickly, and once the holidays were over there was little time to study. Weekends were usually spent in the malls with Kate, Eve, and Rhonda, finishing their Christmas shopping and talking about their trips home. Rhonda was meeting Jeremy's parents over the holiday, and to listen to Kate and Eve, it was the biggest news since Oprah's second retirement.

Wil was dreading the holidays, and spent as much time as possible focusing on the wonderful plans the girls had. It would be her first Christmas without Andrew. She had no idea what to do. His mom had called a week ago and invited her over for coffee a couple days after Christmas, and if there was anything to look forward to, it was reconnecting with her second family. Joan St Croix was as much of a mother to her as her own, and she'd feared losing touch when Andrew passed, but between email and the occasional call they had kept up well.

Every other day, after music composition, she secreted away to the rehearsal halls and settled in front of the same door. Only once had her pianist not been there, a beautifully sunny day that had melted the snow and cheered almost the entire body of Dartmouth. Wil, however, had been in a sour mood that day, realizing for the first time the strength she drew from the music. Some days the songs were full of pain or anger, other days love and peace, and somehow they always seemed to mirror her own thoughts.

She often found herself wondering about the pianist. Whoever it was, they had obviously felt a loss much like her own, and a few times she had stood from her spot on the floor and went to knock before hesitating. It seemed like such a personal time to interrupt, and she would not have appreciated the interruption as she stole away bits of comfort from their playing.

Once, she had chastised herself on intruding on the private moment entirely, and she vowed to not return. Her resolve was weak, and two days later, she'd found herself in the same spot anyway.

Finally, the last week before break was over. Wil stood with everyone else as her music composition class clamored for the door, many of them ready to pack and hit the road. She tucked her tablet into its bag and threw the bag over her shoulder, clutching her purse in her other hand. Rhonda would already be at home, obsessing and packing, and she'd promised to get home as quickly as possible to help her…still, she planned on at least stopping by the piano room one last time.

"Ms Monroe?" the professor interrupted her train of thought, and she paused at the door. A classmate cursed behind her and she stepped aside, making her way over to where the professor stood.

Dr. Jackson was no older than her parents, perhaps 45 tops. Flecks of grey were dusted in his chestnut-colored hair, and he had a wicked grin when he unleashed it, along with a fair sense of humor. He was fit, his trim build clad in a red turtleneck and dark jeans, and his hands were buried in his pockets as Wil paused at his side.

"I won't keep you long, but I wanted to speak with you for a moment," he told her, smiling. "Every year, at the end of term, we hold a recital for some of our composition students – a small affair, only 5 or 6 songs of varying styles, but it highlights some of the best work that comes out of our classes."

Along with a sense of humor, he had a flair for the dramatic, and Wil hid a grin when he paused and gave her an expectant look. "Yes, sir?" she asked, giving him exactly what she knew he was hoping for.

"Your piece has been chosen to represent the sophomore class this year," he revealed, face breaking into a huge smile. "Congratulations!" He turned to his desk and offered her a bundle of papers. "Three copies of your piece in print; you'll need to arrange your own performers for the piece. First rehearsal is at 6, downstairs in the performance hall, the first Friday back."

Wil accepted the music, tucking it into her tablet bag and taking a breath. "Thank you, sir," she said earnestly. She zipped the bag closed quickly, hoping to hide the shaking of her hands.

"And Ms Monroe – I don't have to explain what an honor this is," Dr. Jackson told her, and she nodded as she turned to leave.

"No, not at all. Thank you again," she assured him, clutching her purse as she left the room. She made it all the way to the stairwell before allowing herself a quiet squeal, pressing a fist to her mouth. Her piece – _her piece! _ – had been chosen as the sole sophomore contribution to the recital in February. The class had been told about the recital, encouraged to attend if they had any intension to continue in composition courses, and it had been impressed upon them that no one should expect inclusion in an introductory course like theirs.

OK, Wil, breathe. She grasped the handrail for the stairs and started down slowly, trying to keep the bounce from her step. Her composition was an acoustic two part – vocal and piano. She quickly decided she would sing it herself; that would make it easy to get someone familiar with the piece in time for the recital. Accompaniment would be more difficult; the piano part was intricate and subtle, beyond her ability. She had composed it with her computer playing back the notes, having tried only once to play it herself. It had been a disaster.

Unfortunately, all of her musical friends had been shared friends of hers and Andrew's, and had all drifted away after the accident. Well, they had drifted, and she had pushed them away, the gaping hole where Andrew had fit being too awkward when they were together. Since then, she had made few friends, isolating herself…

Her feet took her the familiar path to the rehearsal rooms, and she stopped short. Of course! She did know one pianist, sort of, and he was certainly skilled enough to play the piece.

There was only one problem: they had never actually met. Wil didn't think the pianist even knew she existed.

With a frown, Wil reached for her bag, pulling out one copy of the sheet music and glancing it over. She had to try, she realized. The only other option was to find and hire a pianist she didn't know at all, and while that could be done, she loathed to do it. This piece of personal, a part of herself she rarely showed. She had taken a chance revealing it like this, and she was glad to share it in the recital, but to have a stranger perform it didn't feel right. Her pianist would understand, would know the emotion behind it, and could convey that like no stranger could.

Gentle notes flitted down the hall toward her, telling her that her chance was now. Straightening, she walked in an unrushed pace down the hall, then raised her hand to knock. She paused, biting her lip. Was this the right idea? Would they understand and accept the interruption? Should she leave her pianist in peace, find someone else? Swallowing her doubts, she let her fist make contact.

The music inside stopped the moment the first knock rang out, and Wil found the silence startling. In her mind, Andrew coached her to stand firm, and she tried to draw strength as she waited outside the door. She heard no sound from within, no footsteps of someone approaching the door, and briefly she worried that the pianist may not even answer. What then?

The tweeting of a phone sounded behind the door, ending as quickly as it began. She strained to listen, to get her first glimpse into who the pianist was – she didn't even know if he was a man or a woman! – but nothing came.

Seconds dragged on like hours, and after a few minutes, Wil sighed. No one was going to answer. Head hanging, she began to turn away, then froze.

The handle moved, and with a soft creek, the door opened.

Before her stood a man of average height, but that was where "average" ended. Wil's first thought was that Rhonda was wrong, and that Hotness was not found in a classroom, but here, behind the piano. His build was lean but sculpted, clad in black jeans and a coal-colored sweater, and his features were severe, hard lines drawn in high cheekbones and a strong jaw. His lips were a deep burgundy, contrasting sharply with his pale skin, and they were pulled down in a frown. Beneath a mess of bronze hair, his eyebrows were knit together, and he stared at her with intense topaz eyes.

"What?" he growled, and she took a step back, lips parting in shock at the harsh greeting. For a moment, she thought he might strike out at her somehow, there was such anger in his eyes. There were dark circles beneath them, though, and they reminded her of herself a few months ago. It was this commonality that gave her the strength to step back toward him, ignoring his anger.

"I know you don't know me," she started, "but I've been listening to you play for the past month. You're incredible, and I was hoping you would perform with me in the winter composition recital." Her words sped up as she said them, but even before she was finished, he was closing the door.

"No," he said simply, turning away. Panic gripped her for a moment at the easy rejection, and she thrust a foot out, catching the door before it latched.

"Listen, just look at the piece, all right? Here." She grabbed a pencil, jotting her number at the top of the sheet music and shoving it through the narrow opening of the door. "Call me if you have any questions. We rehearse in the performance hall here, first Friday back. Think about it?"

She held out the papers for a moment, waiting for the expected rejection. Finally, to her surprise, he took them from her, then shut the door firmly without another word. After a moment, the piano music started back up again with a hard edge, hammers hitting strings a little too firmly to produce an eloquent sound. It was no song Wil recognized, though she could tell there was a gentle undercurrent being lost in the strong way he played.

All she could do now was hope. Turning away, she left the music building behind and went home to pack her car; she had a flight to catch in the morning.


	9. Surprise

The offensive sheets of paper sat atop Edward's piano where he'd slapped them down in outrage. The arrogance! The gall! Why would he go out of his way to help a stranger? What did she know about talent?

Why should he waste his time?

If Alice had not send him the message encouraging him to open the door, he never would have. As he played, terse notes that flowed from his fingers with no rhyme or reason, aimless wanderings with no true tune to follow, he let his anger and frustration pour through the piano. He wished he had never opened the door. His damned meddling sister wouldn't see what was coming when he gave her a piece of his mind later; her visions could not give even a glimpse of the fury he would unleash on her.

Her and that woman both, who had forced her way into his solitude. That musical voice that had haunted him for a month, Bella singing to him in his reveries, was not his love at all but some…some…_girl_ who was fawning over him like so many high school girls past.

He let himself focus on this for as long as he could, trying unsuccessfully to lose himself in his anger and his music. His phone twittered a few times in his ear, and he ignored that as well, venting some of his rage toward the sister that was pestering him. She would show up eventually, he knew, and then he could give her a piece of his mind.

She had seen this.

She had encouraged it.

Slamming both hands down on the keys as hard as he dared, he rose to his feet and snatched the sheet music that had been taunting him. He might as well take a look, so that he could easily dismiss the piece and be rid of this infuriating woman who had appeared out of nowhere to taunt him.

Her and her arrogant, childish, infuriating, veiled mind.

If he was honest with himself – which he had no desire to be as he paced in his fury, holding but refusing to read the music in his hands – he was agitated. When the knock at the door had pulled him from Bella's bedroom in Forks and the glorious feel of her arms around him, he had expected one of his siblings come to fetch him as they usually did. When no thoughts followed the knock, he opened his senses, noticing the heartbeat and the subtle scent that accompanied his intruder, and automatically dismissed them. A quick glimpse at their mind would no doubt tell him everything he needed to know, and then he could ignore the intruder and go back to where he belonged.

It was that simple – until, of course, he realized he could pluck no thoughts from whomever stood mere feet away. She was not silent to him, but rather than thoughts and images he could glean only the vaguest of information. Apprehension. Hope. Confusion. If she had not been in such a state of anxiety, he would think her simple, but with that much so obviously whirling around in her mind he should have been able to hear something.

Even when she spoke to him, he had heard nothing from her but a vague sense of desperation and a hazy glimpse of something else that he could not quite identify.

It infuriated him. How dare she deny him? How dare she interrupt his most sacred time to request a favor of him, and yet refuse him at the same time?

How dare she, with her heart shaped face and wide eyes, with her frustratingly veiled mind and vaguely floral scent, compare herself to _his Bella_?

All of this ran through his mind in quick succession, even as the memory of Bella called to him from the corners of his mind. He felt the whispery call of it, longed to sink back into reverie; her memory had become an addiction – his own personal brand of heroin. The comparison was amusing, ironic. She had always held an unnatural power over him. She still did, even as she lay in rest in the Forks cemetery. Here Lies Isabella Marie Cullen, beloved wife and daughter, plots to her left and right reserved for her father and her husband, donated by the town to honor their Police Chief's only child.

No one would be surprised when young Edward Cullen, barely an adult at the time of his wife's death, did not return to the small town to be laid to rest.

He wished he could be.

That particular tangent of thought did much to quell the fury in him. Edward sank to the floor slowly, crossing his legs beneath him and sitting with the sheet music in his lap. Had he been able to cry, he would have. Instead, he stared sightlessly at the opposite wall until another soft knock pulled him back to reality once more. This time, he ignored it, and after a few seconds the door eased open and his meddling pixie of a sister slipped in, and entirely apologetic look on her face.

"I had no idea-"

"I know," Edward cut her off, seeing it clearly in her mind. She shut the door behind her and crossed to him, kneeling on the floor at his side. The images in her mind were of him, memory of a vision in which he went on a tirade twice as bad as the one he had. Her lips were tugged down in a frown, an expression seldom seen on Alice's face, and he shook his head at the sight. "Never mind it, Alice."

"But, what did she do?" Alice asked, pursing her lips in thought. "I didn't see her doing anything that wrong."

"It was nothing." Rising suddenly, Edward waved his empty hand to dismiss the subject. "She was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time." As she went over to the piano again, he considered dropping the sheet music into the trash, but instead shoved it into his tablet bag and zipped it back up.

Alice watched him curiously, coming up behind him and peering around his arm. "What did she want?"

"She is doing a recital," he told her as they left the room. "She wanted a pianist. I thought you would know that."

"I saw the two of you at the door talking," she said, shrugging. "I thought it would be … good for you to talk to someone."

And there it was again, the endless recital of information that told Edward that there was clearly something his sister was hiding from him. Try as he might, he couldn't get around the inundating stream of lectures she recited in her mind from the past week. He blocked her out, disgruntled. "I would rather not," he snapped at her.

"But you promised to _try_," Alice reminded him sternly. "So, try."

She made it sound so simple. They went to the nearest parking lot, meeting Jasper there; the two of them shared a brief kiss before getting into the car. Try to do what? Fill the hole Bella had left? With what, tedious class work and mundane human interaction? He hoped that, once he was into his residency, he would be able to fill his time saving lives and doing things worthwhile. With luck, that would give him some sense of worth that he was now lacking, though a part of him wondered if it could work that way.

He fingered the zipped of his bag, thinking of the papers within. If not for the woman's indecency, he might consider her request; music was certainly a worthy pursuit. As he called up the memory of her, however, his anger grew exponentially and he sneered.

"Edward?" Jasper asked, glancing back at him. "It's Emmett we're talking about here, he loves a good prank."

What? He scrambled for a moment, catching the line of the conversation Jasper and Alice had been having in the front seat: pranks to pull on Emmett for the holidays. Running a hand through his hair, Edward got a handle on his anger and sighed.

"Not that," he explained. "I was just thinking. I'm in, though, if you take the parts out of his Jeep and wrap them for him; the look on his face should be priceless."

"It will be!" Alice grinning, turning her attention back to the road in front of them and her husband at her side. "Of course, that will even be a real gift for Rose; she has been wanting to get under the hood of that Jeep since Emmett bought it…"

"Just under?" Jasper asked with a raised eyebrow as he took control of the car back. His wife giggled, and Edward suppressed a groan as they pulled into the garage. That pulled Edward up short for a moment; garage? They were supposed to be dropping him off at home.

He looked back to the couple in the front of the car, who were both beaming back at him. "Surprise!" Alice squealed, throwing her seatbelt off and leaping out of the car. She tugged Edward's door open and took his hand, trying to pull him from the car.

"Let me get the-" Alice gave another good pull, and a brief snap of metal was followed by Edward's seatbelt flying open, allowing him to step out of the car. "-Seatbelt." Jasper looked over the car at his wife and shook his head as he closed his door.

"Did you have to go and break the new car already, my dear?" he asked her with a smirk. She refused to look abashed, continuing to pull Edward along with more bounce in her step than usual. Edward's patience began to run thin, and a brief touch of calm soaked into him. _It's worth it, brother, just play along,_ Jasper urged him. With a sigh, he followed her, allowing himself to be nearly dragged through the door that led from their three car garage to the kitchen, an open room with two large windows looking out the back and a breakfast bar between it and the living room. Four figures were seated at the breakfast bar, and the sight brought a true smile to Edward's face.

"Daddy!" Renesmee was the first to rise, launching herself off the stool and across the room; she was in her father's arms before Jasper had the door closed behind them. She wore a long woven skirt with a rainbow of colors in the design and a simple white blouse, and it seemed like she had gotten a bit of a tan over the last month. Giving her a squeeze, Edward soaked in her presence for a moment. He could feel his mood lighten, and too soon he pulled away from her, slipping his bag off his shoulder and setting it on the kitchen table to his left.

Carlisle and Esme were not far behind her, and they each drew him into a strong hug. Carlisle clapped in him on the shoulder with a nod of approval, and after her hug, Esme drew back to study him for a moment. _You look…tired,_ she decided. _Are you feeding well?_

"Yes, Mom," Edward said with a roll of his eyes, and Jacob laughed heartily from behind her. "Shut up, mutt."

"Bite me, leech," Jacob fired back with a broad smile. He came up beside Esme and the two shook hands. "You've gotta admit, it was funny."

Edward gave him a shrug, looking him over. He was still mostly the same as he had been twenty years before, though like Renesmee, he had picked up even more color from their time in Florida. His short black hair was slightly longer, though still close cut, and under the collar of his navy tee Edward saw a faint hint of color. His eyebrows shot up, and he reached out to pull the collar back.

"A tattoo?" he asked incredulously, staring at the small, howling wolf that adorned Jacob's collar bone. Spinning to his daughter, he demanded, "You had better not… You…!"

This time, Renesmee laughed. "No, Dad, come on. Could I even _get_ a tattoo? That was all Jake, and I told him it was silly, but he insisted."

"Don't let Emmett see," Jasper commented from where he hovered by the door. "He'll be jealous."

"Hell yeah! It's awesome, isn't it?" With a grin, Jacob turned to show it to Carlisle and Esme before letting his collar fall back into place. "I wanted to get it on my forearm, but Nessie said no." He gave a small pout at that, and Renesmess reached over to smack him on the arm.

"Like that would have stopped you, you big lug," she said with a smile. Jacob gave her an offended look, rubbing the spot she'd hit, and she just shook her head at him.

Carlisle slipped an arm around Esme and nodded toward the living room. "Why don't we go sit and catch up?" he suggested. Without waiting for a response, the pair left the kitchen, and everyone else followed behind them. Edward lingered, his daughter by his side; after glancing at the two of them, Jacob followed the rest and gave them a moment alone. There was no real privacy in the kitchen, not with their present company, but they tried to leave appearances sometimes.

Wordlessly, Edward pulled his daughter into another embrace. He pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent and taking solace in it. Renesmee held him just as tightly for a moment, then lifted one hand to rest on his cheek. She shared with him an image of her time in Florida, laughing and relaxing on the beach. _It's great,_ she told him, and he nodded.

"Good," he murmured, truly pleased. He saw in her a contentment that had been missing lately, and he was glad for it, even if the separation was pulling him apart. He decided in that moment that she would never see it, so she could leave after the holidays with no guilt or burden. Pasting a smile onto his lips, he said again, "Good."

With one last squeeze, he released her, and they flitted at vampire speed into the living room to join the others.


	10. Christmas

An incessant buzzing broke through Edward's latest reverie, pulling him back into reality with an annoyed growl. Peeling his eyes open, he rose from where he sat in his tiny living room, crossing the room in a moment. He snatched the headset off its charging pad and tucked it into its ear before the next ring had sounded, then touched the button.

"Yes?" he asked, not bothering with formality – only family had his number and would be calling. He'd had to bite back a more demanding response, not wanting to snarl at his daughter. He needn't have worried: Alice's perky voice greeted him.

"Well, good morning, sleepy head," she said, giggling. Edward rolled his eyes. "I know you hate to be interrupted, but I saw that if someone didn't call, you would keep 'sleeping' right through Christmas!"

He cast a glance across the room at the clock on the wall - it was just after 9am – and muttering a curse. "I'm late," he told her needlessly.

"Yes, you are," Alice agreed. "Or you will be, if you don't get out of the house in the next minute and start driving."

"Thanks." Without waiting for a response, he disconnected the call and sprung into action. Christmas was, traditionally, one of the few holidays that the entire family celebrated in a mostly human fashion. They skipped the feast, of course, but Alice and Esme always went overboard with decorations, and they exchanged gifts – the only time of the year they did so, birthdays having long since been abandoned.

Knowing his sister would never forgive him for showing up in the black turtleneck and pants he was wearing, Edward sped into the bedroom-turned-piano suite, returning a moment later wearing a dark green sweater and khaki pants. He cared little for what he wore, but some battles were easier to avoid than fight. Still at an unnatural speed, he gathered up all of the papers that were spread across the kitchen counters, tapping them on one end to line them up before settling them into a black folder, then into a plain gold-flecked box. He slowed marginally as he wrapped a black ribbon around the box's width, then its length, tying it into a bow. This done, he set it down and sped to the hallway closet to pull on a bulky black coat, then returned to pick up the newly wrapped box and a small, silver box adorned with a silver bow that sat on the counter beside it.

Planning, he mused with a chuckle, had not been his strong suit in recent years.

His phone buzzed briefly in his ear as he locked the door, returning to a human pace. "One message," an electronic voice announced, and as he pocketed his keys and started down the hall, Edward said softly, "Play message."

"Well done," Alice's voice chirped at him brightly, causing him to smirk.

The drive to his siblings' house was a short one, but the BMW Z8 roadster he had bought himself made the trip quickly, its sleek black body weaving through the streets easily. Edward kept control of the car, but was careful to ensure the speed limit was maintained, a task that both frustrated him and kept him mind on the task at hand – and off of Bella. As much as he would love to "fall asleep" as his sister had nicknamed it, he had other obligations to attend to.

Soon, he was pulling the car into his siblings' driveway. He parked it, grabbing the two gifts from the passenger seat and sliding out of the vehicle. The lights flashed as he walked away.

The door opened as he stepped up to it, and he pulled himself together quickly, putting a smile on his face that may even fooled some of them with its brightness. "Merry Christmas!" he said with a forced cheerfulness.

His entire family, excluding the most important piece, were gathered in the living room. Carlisle and Esme sat side by side on the loveseat, him wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt, Esme in a navy blue zip-front dress with a wide belt around her waist. Jacob sat beside them in jeans and a green polo – his version of dressing up, Edward thought, remembering all the arguments between him and Alice over the years about his lack of style. Renesmee was, as always, stunning in a three quarter length red dress that clung gently to her curves, a wide neck allowing her to show off the heart shaped locket she wore. Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail far more casual than her attire. Emmett and Rosalie sat together on the love seat, the collar of his green polo askew; his wife wore a matching pleated dress that fell to her ankles and had cropped sleeves and a plunging v-neck. Sitting alone in the single chair, Jasper wore grey slacks, a navy dress shirt, and a mildly amused expression as he watched his wife pull Edward into the room and guide him toward the wooden chair that had been brought in from the kitchen. It completed the circle, and he slid into it as Alice – wearing a full length dress of her own design in bright red with green trim and accents – bounced across the room to land in Jasper's lap.

Surrounded by couples, and sitting on his own, Edward had to work a moment to hold his composure. It felt awkward to be the odd man out, still, once again – always. This was the first time since the past Christmas that the entire family had been together, and it was as difficult as he had expected, but he was determined to ignore that for his daughter's sake.

Jasper shot him an understanding glance, and he felt a calm strength surge through him. He nodded his thanks.

"Merry Christmas, son," Esme greeted him with a warm smile.

Carlisle cleared his throat, and a few of them chuckled at his efforts to appear human, so ingrained he kept them up even when it was just family. He gave a chagrinned smile and clasped his hands in front of him, bowing his head. The rest of them did the same; Edward wasn't sure how much he shared his father's faith, but Bella had opened him to the possibility that they might not be damned, and Renesmee seemed a miracle in her own right sent to remind him that his life should have meaning. He muttered the words under his breath with Carlisle.

"Lord, in this holy season of prayer and song and laughter, we praise you for the great wonders you have sent us: for shining star and angel's song, for infant's cry in lowly manger. We praise you for the Word made flesh in a little Child. We behold his glory, and are bathed in its radiance.

"Be with us as we sing the ironies of Christmas, the incomprehensible comprehended, the poetry made hard fact, the helpless Babe who cracks the world asunder. We kneel before you shepherds, innkeepers, wise men. Help us to rise bigger than we are. Amen."

A few murmured an "Amen" in answer, and then Alice clapped excitedly. "Me first!" she exclaimed, turning to smile brightly at Renesmee.

Chuckling, the young woman reached down and grabbed a red gift bag from behind the couch, tossing it over to her aunt. Alice caught it deftly, pulling out the red tissue paper and producing a woven sun hat with a wide blue ribbon around it. She set it on her head, slipping off her husband's lap to sit on the floor so it didn't flop into his face. "It's from a little shop along the beach," Renesmee explained, not so much for Alice's sake as the rest of them. "The ribbon is, of course, Alice Blue, and I remembered how you said you wanted to stand on a dock somewhere-"

"-and have the wind catch my hat and blow it into the ocean, yes!" Alice could hardly contain her excitement. "Oh, Nessie, thank you, it's brilliant!"

Emmett picked up a brightly wrapped box at his feet and tossed it across the room to Renesmee, who beamed at him when it landed in her lap. "Your turn, kid," he said with a grin. They always went in order like this, the person who gave the last gift receiving the next; each year they chose names from a hat to decide who to buy for, though most gifts ended up being a joint effort by all the others to come up with something meaningful.

Renesmee unwrapped her gift with a flourish of tearing paper, then gasp a small gasp. Inside, she had found an empty scrapbook with brown leather binding, gold thread stitching around the edges. A ballpoint pen with a carved wood casing was tucked into it as well for journaling.

"I know how much you like your moms' scrapbooks," he told her, suddenly shy. "I figured your first time out on your own would be a great time to start making your own. You know – not that you need them, but it could be fun…"

Renesmee set it down, then rose and crossed the room in two quick strides, enveloping both her uncle and his wife into a hug. "It's perfect," she said. "Thank you."

Emmett reached up to rub the back of his neck, giving her a crooked grin as she went back to sit down and flip through the pages of the book. Edward saw in her mind that she was already planning out the first pages from the time they'd spent in Florida.

"You're up, Em," Jasper said, rising from his chair. He flitted out of the room briefly, returning with a large box overflowing with metal and wires. When Emmett gave him a confused look, he dropped it on the floor beside him; the box had a sprinkling of bows and gift tags in it along with the automotive parts. Comprehension dawned on Emmett's face, and he leapt to his feet.

"Parts for my Jeep! Awesome!" He grabbed the box and raced out to the garage, and a moment later, they heard a fierce growl. "JASPER!" Suddenly, Emmett had Jasper in a hold under his arm, wrestling him around. "What the hell, man!"

"Hey," Jasper said calmly even as Emmett shoved him around the room. "You said you wanted to upgrade it. I just figured I'd give you a good excuse."

Emmett paused at that, and a moment later, gave a huge laugh and let his brother go. He clapped Jasper on the back, and everyone else started to laugh; even Edward chuckled. "Good one, bro, good one."

They continued around the room one by one, giving and receiving gifts. Carlisle gave Jasper a print of a painting depicting a scene from the Battle of Chancellorsville in 1863; from Rosalie, Carlisle received a photo of all the siblings together, framed for his desk when they left after the holidays. For Rose, Jacob bought an ornate hand mirror whose saving grace was that it was an exact replica of the one he's broken a few years earlier, and in turn he received a poorly-woven dreamcatcher that Esme had tried to make for him, the design on it far simpler than most; he assured her he loved it all the same, though in his mind Edward caught him thinking he needed to take his grandmother-in-law back to La Push some day for a lesson. Edward offered the smaller of the boxes he had brought to Esme, who opened it to discover a wide platinum ring with two rows of gemstones in it, a row of four and a row of five, all various colors.

"It's a mother's ring," he told her as she took it out of the box and studied it. "Each gem is the birthstone of one of your children or grandchildren." Sliding it into her finger, she held it up, matching each gem up to one of the people in the room. As the question began to form in her mind, he added quietly, "I took the liberty of including both Bella and William."

Esme looked up at him, and had she been able, he could tell she would have been crying. She traced the rows of gems with a finger, swept up in memories of her adopted daughter and her infant son. _Thank you,_ she told him privately, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement.

A box suddenly appeared in front of his face, and Edward reached up for it, an eyebrow raised at the sister that stood over him. "Your turn!" Alice said, giving him a knowing smile before going back to her seat on the floor by Jasper. The box in his hands was heavy by human standards, wrapped in glittering silver paper. He untucked one corner, carefully removing the wrap and setting it aside. Lifting the lid off the box, he revealed the papers within.

"Sheet music?" he asked, taking one page out and looking over the empty bars on it. The quality was incredible, and in the lower right corner in elegant script, the letters "E.C" were monogrammed into each sheet. Alice nodded.

"You should start writing them down again," she told him with a smile. "I thought you deserved something nice to use, instead of the ridiculous electronic copies modern composers are using." She pulled a face at the idea, and Edward had to agree with her; it seemed remote and unattached to use a computer to record such artwork. Thanking her, he reached for the other, larger box he had brought. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it over to Renesmee, who looked more surprised than she was.

"Father's prerogative," he reminded her as he had to every year; she used to complain that he got her an extra gift, but he couldn't help it, and she was always touched by his efforts to go above and beyond for her. "It is something I would have given you anyway."

"All right…" she told him, putting up token protest as she opened the gift. Ironically – though not unsurprising, as Alice had certainly seen what his gift to her would be – it was also full of sheet music. These pages, however, were already full of carefully drawn notes. She glanced over the top sheet, humming a few bars before breaking off. "Is this what I think it is?"

"A handful of my compositions," he confirmed, smiling in earnest for the first time since arriving. "You have been doing so well lately that I thought you might be ready for something composed for our speed and dexterity." Since reaching adulthood, Edward had been teaching his daughter the piano in bits and spurts; they would work together for a few months, and then she would request a break and work on it on her own, or they would get caught up in another move and the piano would be stored away. Renesmee burst into a wide smile and began leaving through the pages in earnest; the action seemed to signal the end of the gift exchange for all of them. Emmett stood and went over to Alice and Jasper, giving him further grief about his gifted Jeep parts, while Carlisle and Esme disappeared into the basement; Esme still had a faraway look in her eyes, caught up in memories of her two lost children. Rose took up the box of parts her husband had received and took them to the garage to sort through; Jacob trailed along, the odd pairing having found common ground in their love of automobiles.

Edward stood, making his way over to his daughter's side and sitting where Jacob had been. He fought against the urge to make a face at the smell left in his wake, trying to be polite. In all honesty, however, it was offensive, and after a moment he shifted to where Carlisle had sat instead. It didn't really make it any better, but it allowed Renesmee to slide off the arm of the couch and sit beside him.

Setting the stack of sheets she had already gone through on the arm table beside the couch, she picked up the next sheet and sang a piece of it under her breath.

_You see the shelter as the storm_

_Holding wind to keep you warm_

_You are everything to me_

_This why is I have to leave_

_So sleep well, my angel_

She looked up at Edward as she trailed off. "Is this from when you left her?" she asked, her voice a little unsteady. He nodded, not trusting himself to answer, and she gave him a small smile. "It's beautiful, but I'm glad you went back."

Setting the page aside, she continued to look through the sheets of music. Most of the pieces had no words, only piano; he very rarely set lyrics to his music, the song she had found being one of the few exceptions. He had never shared the song with anyone, even Bella; Renesmee was the first to ever see it.

She had stopped again, and he looked down to see what piece she was reading as she commented, "This must be another from then."

With a start, he snatched the paper from her. "This is not mine," he mumbled, reaching into the box and gathering up the other sheets. Somehow, in his rush, he had grabbed the song the young woman had pressed on him along with his own compositions. Renesmee snatched it back from him, humming a few bars of it.

"Whose is it?" she asked him, looking it over. "I can see the differences in it from your style, but still, it's really good."

As he looked it over, Edward had to grudgingly agree. It _was_ good, the music and lyrics so poignant they seemed to strike a chord in him. He started to piece the melody together in his head; across the room, Alice was grinning at him.

_Perfect,_ he heard her think before she returned to blocking him. Shooting her a glance, he took the music back from his daughter again, turning it face down and setting it on the couch beside him. "No one," he told her. "Just something a stupid left in one of the rehearsal rooms. I must have grabbed it by mistake."

"Too bad," his daughter commented. "I liked it."

He refused to say it, but he liked it too.

-The snippet is the chorus of Sleep Well My Angel by We Are The Fallen


	11. Familiar Streets of Kennewick

Washington in December was frightful, making Dartmouth's campus seem pleasantly warm. Wil leaned over the hood of her tiny red VW, scraping the last of the snow and ice off the windshield and brushing it off onto the driveway.

"Have a moment for an old man?" a voice asked at her side, making her jump. Tapping the brush off, she looked up, unable to stop the shock from showing on her face when she saw who the speaker was. Uncle Chuck stood leaning on his cane and grinning at her crookedly. He wore a worn and faded Bass Pro hat, and he took it off once he'd stopped so he could run a hair through his short gray hair.

Wil nodded to him, holding up a finger. She went around the back of the car and opened the trunk, setting the brush inside. In truth, she was curious to hear what he had to say. Uncle Chuck had always been a man of few words, preferring to play wildly with her as a child and offer a few words of wisdom as she grew. He was actually her mother's uncle, and he lived across the state somewhere, driving in for every family gathering and holiday since before she could remember. He was always alone, and she thought briefly how sad that must be, to live to his age without any family around him.

She shut the trunk and went back to him before she could think too much on how she might end up the same way.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, leaning against the car. Uncle Chuck had set the cap back on his head, and he looked her over for a moment, his eyes rich with an emotion she couldn't quite place.

"Listen, Willa, I just – er – I wanted to make sure you really wanted to go," he said awkwardly, shifting his gaze away from her. "Are you sure it's the best thing for you?"

She smiled softly as she watched him fidget, reaching out and setting a hand on his arm. "Yes," she told him firmly, "I'm sure. They're family too, and you know how much that means."

"Well, yes. I've been realizing it more the older I get," he admitted. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Er – just be sure you don't let yourself get too wrapped up in his memory, all right? I lost my wife years back, and I never really let her go. It's hard, and seeing where that got me… You're too young."

When he looked at her, his eyes seemed to see right through her for a moment to the grief she covered up. When she nodded, he returned the gesture with a soft "That's my girl." After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and set a hand on her shoulder. "You're a good kid, Willa. Be safe on those roads, and be back by dark, you hear?" She smiled at him, and clearing his throat, he turned away and started back up the shoveled walk to his niece's two story home.

Wil got into the car slowly, watching in the mirror as Uncle Chuck went back into the house and closed the door behind him. With a sigh, she punched an address into the navigator. A voice accepted the address and the car started down the road as Wil leaned back. For the first time since coming home, she allowed her mind to dwell on her fiancé, memories coming one by one to her as the familiar streets of Kennewick rolled past.

It had been here, on these streets, that she and Andrew had found each other. She hated to admit it, but theirs was an old fashioned childhood romance grown strong through years of teasing and play. He'd been the boy that slipped mud pies into her cubby at school and thrown snowballs at her back. His family had moved to the far side of town when they were in junior high, and even that young they'd known their friendship was the lasting kind, trading calls and emails and vid-chats constantly to keep in touch. They'd convinced their parents to send them both to the same private high school, supposedly for academic reasons, but they knew it was so they could be together.

Now, as the miles brought Wil closer to Andrew's family, she felt her chest constrict and a familiar pressure settled on her shoulders. Christmas had been busy; her parents, knowing it would be a hard year, had invited all of the extended family in for a large gathering that kept Wil too busy to really think about what was missing. Between introductions with relatives she'd barely met and trying to remember the names of all the aunts and uncles, she couldn't focus on how this was supposed to be her Christmas as an engaged woman, showing her wonderful husband-to-be around to the family. As the car drove on, she remembered the discussions they'd had last Christmas on the drive between their families, when Andrew had started to drop hints that they might one day be a family, and tears started to well in her eyes.

It was good to cry sometimes.

The navigator spoke up, announcing she was 10 minutes from her destination, and Wil drew herself back out of the memories. She wiped her face on the sleeves of her heather blue pullover and pulled down the visor, flipping open the mirror. Her purse was between her feet, and she popped it open, taking a few minutes to fix her make up to look presentable again. She ran her hands through her hair a few times, shaking it out into gentle waves, and nodded once before raising the visor again.

Placing her hands on the wheel, she tapped the foot pedal to take control of the car and drove the final few blocks manually. As her car pulled into the St Croix's crowded drive, a tall woman with wild blonde hair came rushing out the door. Their house was modest, a small two level that was easily 80 years old, with white siding and a single car garage. Planter boxes sat beneath the windows, piled with Washington snow, and Joan trudged through three inches of the white mess with knee high boots under her flowered dress.

"Wil, darling, you made it!" she cried as Wil stepped out of the car, and she swallowed the younger woman up in a massive hug. "Come in, come in, it's freezing out here!"

Wil allowed herself to be dragged forward, her car's lights flashing behind her to signal the lock as she got out of range. They got into the house and stepped out of their boots, Joan whisking off Wil's coat and spiriting it away. "Make yourself comfortable," she called behind her, and Wil chuckled, finding her way to the living room. The room, usually spacious with a few floral printed couches and glass end tables, was crowded. The built in television was on, but no one was paying attention to the movie playing, though they all crowded near the fireplace beneath it.

"Willa!" a cry sounded over the buzz of conversation, and it quieted, everyone in the room turning simultaneously to the door. They all started talking at once, and they converged, the first to reach her being Andrew's 12 year old brother Chad. He threw his arms around her, and much to Wil's dismay, she found he was nearly as tall as she was.

"You didn't accept my invite!" he scolded, pulling away. A couple months ago, he had sent her an invitation to join the latest online gaming craze; he always got caught up into them, swearing it was the last game he'd ever play, only to move on to the next big thing a couple months later.

Wil scoffed. "Please. If I accepted, you'd just whine that I'd beaten the pants off of you." They both laughed, and before they could continue, the crowd had descended.

Greetings and questions fired every which way at her, some people shaking her hand and others pulling her into a hug. For many, this was the first time she'd seen them since the funeral, and they asked her how she was holding up and offered condolences that she quietly returned. Though it was only 4 people – Andrew's father, twin sisters, and Chad – she was suddenly overwhelmed.

"Enough!" Joan called from the doorway, and everyone backed off. She whisked into the room, apron strings fluttering behind her as she carried a tray with cookies and a steaming cup of coffee. "Let the girl sit down, for heaven's sake," she muttered as she set the tray down on the coffee table. She picked up the cup and handed it to Wil. "Just like you like it, dear."

"Thank you," she said in earnest, more for the save than the coffee. A twinkle in Joan's eye told her she understood. She moved over to one of the couches and sat, warming both her hands on the cup. Just the brief time outside had left her with a chill. Everyone else in the room found a seat, Chad choosing to sit with his back to her legs leaning against her as he always had done to Andrew; the gesture made her smile.

"How have you been, Wil?" Andrew's father, Michael, asked as they settled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Wil had always thought that Michael was a perfect picture of what Andrew would look like as they grew old together; they had the same square jaw and playful brown eyes, though Michael's black hair had receded a fair ways back, wisps of grey dancing through it. They even donned the same mustache, a shaggy thing that had tickled Wil's lip many times when she and Andrew had kissed. She always complained about it, but secretly, she would never have changed it.

She had to think a moment before she answered; Joan and Michael would both have known, and called her out, if she lied. "School is going well," she decided on, then took a sip of her coffee. "I've been invited to participate in a winter recital, and things are all right with my new roommates."

"A recital? When?" Joan cooed, smiling brightly. "That's quite an honor, Wil. I'll have to look into getting some time off of work, but I would love to attend – just send the details to my email. You're working so hard, I'm so proud!." Wil smiled, not wanting to point out that she had little to do but work hard now that Andrew wasn't around to keep her occupied.

"What about the good stuff?" Donna, one of the twins, asked. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and to most that was the only way to tell her from her sister Diann, who always wore hers down. "You know – parties, all nighters, boys…" Diann gasped, smacking her sister in the arm, and Donna asked, "What? There could be boys."

Wil chuckled, trying to remember what it was like to be a senior in high school. The twins would be graduating in the spring and were obsessed with what they thought college would bring. "There are no boys," she said with a wink. "When you've had the best, it's hard to settle."

"Now dear," Joan said firmly, "we won't hold it against you when you move on – and you will. You're too young to be alone." The mood immediately took a dive. The twins looked away awkwardly, and Michael stood, excusing himself for a moment. Wil sighed, reaching for her coffee again.

"I'm just not ready yet, Joan," she said, giving a half-hearted shrug.

"She's just waiting for me to be old enough," Chad piped up, rising to his knees and turning to face her. He blew her a kiss and winked, mischief twinkling in his hazel eyes, and everyone laughed.

"Good luck with that, twerp," Diann said, grasping a throw pillow and chucking it across the room at him.

"It could happen! Right?" He dodged the pillow and looked to Wil for support, who winked back.

"Talk to me when you're 18, kid, and we'll see," she told him, waving a finger in his direction. She dropped the playful expression then, sincere gratitude on her features. "Your brother would appreciate you looking after me, though."

"No worries, sis – I've got your back."

With a laugh, they all let the subject drop, moving into the safer waters of life here in Kennewick. They talked for over an hour like that, joking back and forth, and when she left Wil was thankful she still had such a comfortable relationship with all of them. She had meant it when she called them family; she had watched all of Andrew's siblings grow up, and know his parents almost as well as her own.

She wasn't sure she would have been able to take losing Andrew's family along with losing Andrew himself; she'd barely survived his loss as it was.

The ride back to her mother's house was much more pleasant, and she allowed herself to watch the landscape and houses roll by. So much had changed, and yet so little had; it was amazing how things seemed to change when you moved away. Here, a store had closed; there, a Starbucks had been built just in the time she had been at Dartmouth this year. Change seemed inevitable, seeping into life subtly until, one day, you woke up and everything was suddenly different.

Thinking to Andrew's family in their warm home, and to her own family, she selfishly hoped some things would never change.


	12. Edward & Andrew

By the time winter break was over, Wil was glad to leave Washington behind. As much snow as they got at Dartmouth, it was nothing compared to the northwest, and the latter half of the visit had been simply draining. She left both Andrew's family and her own with an updated vid-chat number and a promise to talk soon, and spent the whole flight back to New Hampshire asleep. As soon as she stepped off the plane, she popped her ear phone on and refused to take it off outside of classes, hoping for a call from her pianist that never came. By Friday, she was a wreck, and she paced outside the performance hall looking at her watch every other minute.

"Calm down, girl," Rhonda told her, leaning against the wall and watching her pace. "You'll be fine!"

"What if he doesn't show!" she cried, throwing her hands up and turning to her roommate. "I'll have no accompaniment!"

"You can play it," she said simply, giving a one shouldered shrug. "Not as well, maybe, but just fine to get by. Tell them your pianist is sick, and find someone in the morning."

Wil had given Rhonda the short story of her drama with the pianist: she'd heard him rehearsing every time she came through after composition class, and had asked him to play for her after hearing how skilled he was. The fact that his music had often moved her to tears she left out, along with his strange anger at being asked to play. Either would have required too many explanations that Wil wasn't willing to give.

Unimpressed with Rhonda's infallible logic, she snorted, going back to pacing. She wore a pair of black slacks and a bright red blouse; casual enough to look easygoing while dressy enough to impress anyone that might need impressing. It seemed to fit in well with the others who had filtered by her into the hall, each of them dressed in business casual, going by twos and threes in deep discussion over their pieces. Many brought their own instruments, and a cacophony of sound came from the hall as they warmed up.

Wil should be warming up as well, but she couldn't get her breathing right, and she knew it was pointless.

Rhonda stepped away from the wall, stepping behind Wil and rubbing her shoulders. "Relax, girl." Wil closed her eyes and took a deep breath, nodding.

"You're right," she admitted. "There's nothing I can do now."

"Damn straight," Rhonda agreed. The door to the hall opened, and a young asian man leaned out.

"We're starting," he told them, and Wil nodded, turning to Rhonda. She reached up to touch the necklace she wore, tracing the three diamonds on it that sat side by side.

"Go knock 'em dead," Rhonda said as she returned to her spot against the wall. "I'll see you at home later, and I want a full report!"

Wil smirked, waving the woman off. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

The recital hall was basic, wood panels on the wall below white drywall, a wooden stage. The small group of musicians sat in the front rows, and a piano and drum set were perched on the stage. Dr. Jackson stood at the front of the stage with an elderly woman at his side, her white hair pinned up in a bun on her head and glasses perched on the end of her nose. Wil hurried down the aisle, taking a seat at the end of the second row, and Dr. Jackson cleared his throat.

"Welcome to you all," he said with a congenial smile. "Congratulations again on being chosen to have your pieces performed at our winter recital. I look forward to seeing them in concert!

"For those who don't know me, I am Dr. Jackson, and this is my colleague Dr. Reinholdt. We both teach a handful of composition classes, and we are very excited to see some of our up and coming stars here with us. Tonight is a preliminary rehearsal to ensure you are all on track for the performance; we will call each of you on stage, and you will run through your piece once. We ask the composers to join their musicians on stage. Depending on the caliber of the performance, we may need to ask someone to forfeit their place in the recital; do not take this as a reflection on the quality of the piece or the performance, but we understand that not much time was given to rehearse and, with the holidays, you may not have been able to get up to speed so quickly."

He paused, looking to Dr. Reinholdt, who nodded and clapped her hands.

"We'll begin with the Sonata in D by Cherie Roberts," she said, starting toward the edge of the stage. "Cherie?"

A stout woman with red flyaway hair stood, as well as a string quartet. The five of them made their way up the stairs and to center stage, where four chairs had been arranged in a semi-circle. The musicians settled, placing music in stands in front of them, and one of them tapped a beat on the stand with their bow. The cello came in first, and as the rest joined them, Wil glanced toward the back of the hall and bit her lip.

Whether by chance or because they noticed the fact that she was alone, the professors called the other 5 composers first. One by one they went through their pieces, and she catalogued them as she went. Two were classical, the string quartet and a piano piece with two players side by side. One was almost jazz, with a saxophone player and piano competing with a vocal piece that had no lyrics. Another was much more current, an upbeat tune with two singers and synthetic accompaniment, and the fifth a country soloist with guitar and drums. It truly was a diverse group, especially with Wil's song factored in.

Not that she believed she would make it further than this rehearsal, with her attempting to play the piano while she sang.

"Brilliant, it's coming along splendidly," Dr. Jackson said from his spot at the edge of the stage as the country trio finished. "Thank you, Mark! Now, our final piece… Willa Monroe?"

Wil stood slowly, casting one last glance to the back of the hall before starting up to the stage. She heard a few voices whispering as she passed, no doubt wondering at the fact that she was alone. Stalling, she climbed the stairs slowly and crossed to the piano, setting the sheet music down and stepping forward.

"Unfortunately, my pianist-"

A door banged open at the back of the hall, cutting off her explanation, and her knees went weak with relief when her pianist strode in. He gave a curt nod to the professors as he climbed the stairs two at a time, nearly gliding across the stage to settle onto the piano bench. He reached up, rearranging the sheet music to his liking, and then looked expectantly at Wil. His eyes seemed darker than they had before the break, and his face seemed drawn, but as she stared at him he flashed a crooked grin.

"Shall we?" he asked in a velvet voice that barely carried past the edge of the stage. Wil nodded once, turning back to the group.

"The piece we will be performing is entitled, _No One Knows_," she told them, then took a few steps back to be in line with the piano. Without any further introduction, the first notes of her song began, and she noticed that he was being delicate with them, almost caressing the keys as he played.

_I can almost feel you smiling  
From beyond those silver skies  
As you watch me finding my way  
Here without you in my life_

No one knows but you  
How I feel inside  
No one knows  
No one knows but you

I've come so close to believing  
All the echoes in the wind  
Brushing my hair off my shoulders  
I feel you there once again

No one knows but you  
How I feel inside  
No one knows  
No one knows but you

And if there is some magic  
Some way around these stars  
Some road that I can travel  
To get to where you are  
I'll cry this empty canyon  
An ocean full of tears

And I won't stop believing  
That your love is always near

No one knows but you  
How I feel inside  
No one knows … but you

The last notes faded, and for a moment there was a quiet hush before polite applause broke out from the other musicians. Her pianist had passed any of her expectations; there had been a few rough points where they both tried to take liberties that didn't quite go together, but considering they had not spoken since she'd given him the music, she was pleased. So too were the professors, who applauded as they strode out to center stage in front of the piano.

"I think," Dr. Reinholdt said, "that we are looking forward to a banner recital. Please, everyone, refine your pieces; we will meet at the Hopkins Center three weeks from now for another run through and to go over all the details for the performance. Use your time well!"

Everyone rose at her dismissal, gathering instruments and chattering as they made their way to the door. Her pianist started off stage at a quick pace, and Wil jogged over to him, catching him by the arm as he started down the stairs. She hesitated for a moment, noticing how cold his arm was through his shirt, but brushed it off as the weather.

"We should rehearse together," she told him, and he turned to give her an expectant look. He wasn't much for words, she figured; maybe he was some sort of prodigy, or maybe he was too full of himself. She refused to guess which. "Can I meet you, say, tomorrow at noon?"

"Fine," he agreed, pulling his arm out of her grasp. Again, he started toward the door, and she followed him, falling into step at his side. She rubbed her hands together as they went; his arm had been cold, even through his white dress shirt. Of course, the performance hall was kept at a lower temperature to compensate for a full house, and he must have just come in when he rushed onto the stage.

"I'm Wil," she offered. "Willa Monroe. Thank you for coming today, I really appreciate it."

They reached the doors out of the hall and he pushed through one, surprising her when he kept hold of it and waited for her to exit. "Edward Cullen," he said simply, letting the door close behind her. "I'll see you tomorrow then. It's…a good song."

He brushed past her on his way down the hall, leaving her frozen in his wake. The admission had almost seemed to pain him, and yet the idea that he thought her song was good meant strangely much to her. She didn't know who he was to truly be a judge, but she smiled all the same, happy such a musician would appreciate her creation. It wasn't until she heard the door bang behind her, signaling his exit, that she started to move again, making her own way slowly to the door.

When Wil got home, she was met at the door by all three of her roommates, all bundled in their coats and grabbing at her. Hands – she couldn't even tell whose – found her shoulders and arms, and she was turned around and pushed out the door.

"We're going out!" Kate exclaimed as the door bumped closed behind them.

"But-"

"No buts!" Rhonda said firmly, stepping ahead to push open the door to the stairs. "It's been weeks since we went out together, we're going and that's final!"

Wil sighed, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. A moment later it had fallen loose again, and she left it fluttering in front of her eyes as she was rushed down the stairs and out of the building. The sun had set a couple hours ago, and the night was cold and clear with little wind. Though there was no snow, small patches of ice were scattered along the path to the parking lot. With her dress shoes – black with buckles and a wide one-inch heal – she was careful to avoid them.

"Fine," she relented. "Where?"

"Molly's, of course!" Kate made it sound like it was a given, and really, it probably should have been. Most weekends, the girls found themselves in Molly's at least one night until close. They piled into the suburban Kate and Eve shared and hit the road.

"So, how'd it go?" Rhonda asked, craning around from the front seat to face Wil. She wore a bright red hat and gloves, and she pulled the latter off, stuffing them into her pockets.

Wil smiled. "Actually, it went well," she admitted, earning a scoff from beside her.

"Of course! You are my fabulous friend, it would go no other way." Kate struck a pose, and they all laughed.

"I couldn't have done it alone though," she told them. "The pianist I have working with me showed up late, and wow, he is amazing."

"Oooooo," Eve crooned from the driver's seat. "Has our perpetually single roommate finally found something that piques her interest?"

"Not that like!" Wil cried, a blush creeping into her cheeks. "He's an amazing musician. Seriously, does it have to be all about men with you guys?" The three of them nodded their agreement, and she gave a heavy sigh. "In that case – you've seen Jeremy, what, four times this week Rhonda?"

Everyone's attention was suitably redirected away from Wil, and she turned to stare out the window. Street lights and brown yards sped past, a few people still showing off their Christmas lights, and her mind wandered as the others discussed Rhonda's growing seriousness with her boyfriend. Her mind went back, for a moment, to similar conversations with high school friends, though for the first time there was no sting with the memory. Instead, she remembered it fondly, and a smile crept onto her lips.

"Earth to Willa!" Rhonda called, bringing her back into the conversation. She looked back to them, seeing three expectant faces staring at her. "Seriously, one of these days you've got to tell us where you go when you do that."

"Or take us with you," Kate added.

"Is it about a certain guy?" Rhonda raised an eyebrow, a playful grin on her lips. "That looked like a pretty good guy smile."

Wil decided to play along this time, folding her hands in her lap and putting on a perfectly innocent expression. "A certain guy, yes."

Kate clapped. "Is it that one you have a picture of in your room?"

The car fell silent, and Wil stared at the woman beside her in shock. Rhonda's eyebrows raised, and Eve reached over after a moment, turning the cruise control off and taking manual control of the car. They continued toward Molly's, Eve's eyes firmly on the road, and Rhonda turned to follow her gaze.

It took a few moments for the impact of what Kate had said to fully sink in, and when it did, she felt her anger flare. She narrowed her eyes at the other woman, who looked back at her with a confused expression.

"You were in my room?" Wil asked slowly, her voice low and dangerous. Kate blinked, startled. "What the hell were you doing in my room? You know I don't like people in there! For God's sake, Kate!"

"I left my headset charger at home over holidays. I just wanted to borrow yours," she shot back, her own eyes flashing. "What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? You were in my fucking room! That's mine! That's private!" Her voice rose as she continued, and she practically screeched the last words."

"Come off it!" Kate screamed at her, throwing her hands up in the air. "We live together for fuck's sake! You're always keeping secrets and pushing us away when we share everything – every god damn thing – with you. I needed a charging pad, I didn't find it, I left. It's not like I trashed the place!"

Wil snorted in disgust. "You went through my stuff! You didn't need to trash it, you had no right to go in there without asking me first!"

"Is this about your boy toy? You're trying to hide him from us?" Kate folded her arms in front of her. "I don't know what you hang up is with guys - I'd swear you're a lesbian or something. I bet he's your brother!"

"God!" Wil cursed, fuming. "He's my fucking fiancé, OK? I don't have a goddamn brother. Get off the lesbian kick!"

"Oh! So now you're _engaged_ and you didn't even tell us? Where's the ring? Just tell us the truth already!" The car turned into the parking lot, but neither Kate nor Wil noticed it as they rolled to a stop. Rhonda had turned back to watch now, and putting the car into park, Eve did the same. All eyes were on Wil, and a lump rose in her throat.

"He's dead, Kate," she said, choking on the words. Her voice lowered from a scream to a harsh whisper as she said, "I keep the ring in my jewelry box; I stopped wearing it because I got sick of the pity looks people gave me when they knew." Tears spilled onto her cheeks, and she glanced around the car at everyone's stricken expressions. She couldn't help chuckling. "Yeah, those ones. That's why I didn't tell you, all right? I just wanted somewhere to be where no one was walking on eggshells, and now – because you couldn't keep out of my goddamn room – I can kiss that goodbye."

Reaching for her seatbelt, she unclipped it and thrust the door open, slipping out before anyone could say a word. She slammed the door behind her and sprinted across the parking lot, her breath hitching and tears still steaming. She wiped them away on her coat sleeve. Behind, she heard the others getting out of the car, and she started to run down the street looking for escape.

"Wil! Wait!" Rhonda called, and she refused to turn, pressing forward. Whether she had better endurance than they did, or they didn't chase, Wil couldn't tell; she couldn't hear them behind her, but she didn't want to stop. The running was cathartic, giving her something to do besides cry or rage. She felt as though she should have resented the mask she put on, but instead she had embraced it, and now that it had been pulled back, she had no idea what to do but run. They would be upset. They would be angry. She didn't feel like dealing with their anger and accusations and pity.

She'd spent the past 6 months running from it and now was forced to do it again.

"Woah!"

A hand grabbed her arm, wrenching her backward. A car sped past, the horn blaring, and Wil staggered to regain her balance. She bent over, hands on her knees, and took a deep breath.

"Are you all right?" the same voice asked, and a perky face appeared in front of her. She wore subtle make up, a light dusting of rouge on pale skin and rich red lipstick, and had a petite build. Her hair was short, black and spiky, and Wil had a strange feeling she recognized her from somewhere.

Shaking her head, Wil stood up, scrubbing her face with her hands. She realized her own makeup must have been a disaster and reached automatically for her purse, finding it missing; she must have left it in the car. "Yeah, fine," she muttered, running a hand through her hair and shaking it out. The woman held a tissue out to her, and she took it gratefully, dabbing at her cheeks.

"You sure look fine," she chided, lips turning up in a smile. "You weren't trying to get hit by a car, were you? Because I'm not apologizing."

"What?" Wil glanced behind her at the street, noticing for the first time that they were standing on the corner of an intersection. The light across from her turned green, chirping once, and traffic carried on. "No, no, I was just… I wasn't watching were I was going I guess. Thanks." She turned back, wadding up the tissue and sticking it into her pocket, eyes downcast. A deep chuckle brought her gaze up, and she discovered Hotness standing at the woman's side.

"You really should start paying for attention," he commented, slipping an arm around the woman's waist. Seeing the two of them together, she remembered where she'd seen the woman before; she'd been with him at the bar before Christmas. Her cheeks flushed.

"Do you need a ride somewhere?" his girlfriend asked, and Wil started to shake her head before catching herself. Looking around, she realized she wasn't quite sure where she was or how far she'd run. "Come on, we'll get you where you need to be. I'm Alice, this is Jasper, and I promise we aren't psychos or anything."

Wil chuckled weakly. "I've seen you around a couple times," she mentioned, looking over at Hotness…Jasper, rather. "I'm Wil. I think you're in one of my roommate's classes. I guess I could use a ride to the nearest bus station."

"Bus? Not a chance. I'm not dropping you off at some disgusting bus station in the dark." Alice turned, then slipped out of Jasper's grasp and took his hand. With her free hand, she reached up, tapping the headpiece in her ear. "Message Rose: Won't make it, call you later." She tapped it again and led the way down the street.

"You're sure?" Wil asked.

"I would never leave a woman alone at this time of night," Jasper assured her. "Too many questionables out here." Alice nodded her agreement. They came to a stop, the lights flashing on a sleek black Porsche. Wil's eyebrows raised as she eyed the car; it was ridiculous expensive, the new year's most sought after sports model. Jasper reached out, pulling open a door for her and gesturing her inside.

"Nice car," she said quietly, slipping into the back seat. Alice joined her.

"Isn't it? I would have preferred it in yellow, or maybe orange, but Jazz said no." Alice pouted as Jasper got into the driver's seat, starting it up with a quiet purr. Wil brushed the leather interior appreciatively before putting her seatbelt on.

"Sweetheart, we don't all have your love of the flamboyant," Jasper said, smirking over his shoulder. "Where to?"

"I live on campus," Wil told him. "Do you know where the Ledyard Apartments are?"

"Nice place," he nodded, turning back and entering the destination into the navigator. The car started forward, and they fell into silence, Wil wrapping her arms around herself as she stared out the window. She hoped Rhonda and the girls had gone on to Molly's without her, looking forward to having their apartment to herself for a while. She needed to figure out how to deal with their reaction…and more importantly, she needed some sleep before she had to face them again.

- I wish I could write song lyrics, but as hard as I tried…nothing worked properly. No One Knows But You, Beth Nielsen Chapman


	13. On the Side of the Road

If Bella had been his heroin, speed was Edward's marijuana; less addictive, less worthwhile, but still glorious in its own right. The only light piercing the midnight darkness was the headlights of his car as it sped down the old highways of New Hampshire at speeds that would get him arrested immediately – if they could catch him. Although emergency vehicles had none of the restrictions the public did, most officers had minimal training at high speeds.

He would feel bad if they tried to chase him; they would probably careen out of control. Fortunately, he was able to avoid any law enforcement, and his family knew the location of all of the electronic speed traps, none of which were wasted on the old abandoned highways Edward was driving.

It was almost easy to lose himself in the drive. It had been a while since he had been in an unrestricted car, and while the efforts of driving were reflexive to him, they took slightly more concentration than running; that was why he had chosen to take this drive. After the rehearsal, his second encounter with the still frustratingly-silent woman he now knew as Willa, he wanted distraction.

With his eyes narrowed and his grip on the steering wheel leaving a slight imprint, it wasn't working.

Flying around a corner, Edward let out a soft growl. He'd had every intention, as school came back into session, of blowing off the woman's request. As he attended his Friday morning lab and sat through his afternoon lectures, he refused to even think about it, paying more attention than necessary and earning a few quizzical glances from classmates used to him ignoring…well, pretty much everything around him. And yet his treacherous feet had planted him in the rehearsal hall, playing her song.

Something about the song struck a chord deep within him. He could have written it himself, if he had cared to write anything these past two decades. Perhaps, he considered not for the first time, his sister was right and he should start.

Never bet against Alice.

A flash of white brought his attention back to the road scant feet away from the body that lay in his path. He hit the breaks instantly, swerving the car to the side; even with his vampiric reflexes, he had noticed the body too late, and his back tire hit a bump that jostled the car. Tires squealed as he continued to careen off the road. Spinning the wheel the opposite direction, he corrected his course before he wrapped his brand new car around a tree. It wouldn't hurt him, but he would be thoroughly annoyed if his nearly-tailored car needed to be replaced.

Finally, the car came to a stop; Edward already unlatching his seatbelt, and he threw the door open to leap out of the car.

He had seen it as he approached it, and a part of his mind had processed the sight, but still the dead body that lay on the road came somewhat as a shock. Once, the body had been a middle aged man, probably just past 40 with a sprinkling of grey hair and a receding hairline that left him with barely anything atop his head. He wore a beige pocket polo and a pair of pressed jeans, but no coat, and his boots had been crushed when Edward's car had failed to avoid him. What set the man apart – aside from being dead – was the distinct lack of blood in him.

It took only a second for Edward to process this all, and in that time, a second voice sounded in his mind.

_Gotcha!_

A second figure flew at him, slamming into his body and attempting to grab him. With a bothered sigh, Edward twisted away from the attack, using the other vampire's momentum to fling her into the trees. She hit a tree with a thunderous crash, the trunk cracking along the bottom as the woman landed on the ground, springing back to her feet.

_What the hell?_ she thought, startled.

Her hair was long and wild, a dark black mane around her oval face. She wore a skin-tight black shirt and taunt black jeans, effectively hiding her from humans is she lurked in the shadows. Her bright red eyes studied Edward for a moment, narrowing as she realized what he was. She gave him a low growl, which he echoed back at her.

"You were supposed to be dessert," she snapped at him without rising from her predatory crouch. Edward shrugged in response and she growled again. "I'm _hungry_, damn it."

"Not my problem," Edward told her, turning away from her and walking at a human pace toward the body she had left in the road. She leapt out of the trees, landing in front of the body and crouching protectively in front of it.

"That's my bait!" she admonished.

"That," Edward said, "is a man who deserves a proper burial. Out of my way."

She laughed at that, a high pitched giggle. "It was dinner. You don't bury your leftovers, do you?" she asked him, starting to straighten up. "It's just a human anyway. Who cares?"

A snarl ripped out of Edward before he could think about it, and he sped forward, grabbing her by the neck. He carried her backward a few feet, pressing her back into a tree. With his face an inch from hers, he glared into her eyes.

"I do," he ground out, his voice teeming with anger. "Leave – now. This is _my_ territory, and you will not hunt here."

Her red eyes wide, she stared at him a moment before attempting to nod her agreement. In response, he tightened his grip, causing her to flinch. With an exasperated sigh, he let her go; the moment her feet touched the ground, she was off, disappearing into the trees with her thoughts on her wounded pride and the embarrassment of being bested.

Edward turned back to the corpse that lay in the road. After taking a moment to pull his car off to the side of the road, he knelt by the man, reaching up with an unsteady hand to close the man's eyes. Taking the man's body into his arms, he flitted into the forest, laying him down again between a pair of trees. There was room, here, for a grave; Edward hated to bury him here, alone and where none would find him, but he worse dreaded the idea of tearing him apart so that his remains could be found in pieces. Intact, how the man had died would raise too many questions. After a moment's thought, he took the wallet off the man, and one of his crushed boots. These he set aside, then he went about digging the grave.

As he lowered the man in, he whispered an apology to the man and promised to give his family closure. Then, with a deliberately slow pace, he began to fill the grave back up, returning this man's body to the earth. He even took a moment to bow his head in prayer for the man; though he doubted God would give much weight to the prayers of the damned, this man deserved the effort, his life torn violently away from him far sooner than it should have been.

Picking up the boot and the wallet, he returned to the road about a mile down from where Edward's car sat. He chose a spot just a few feet in from the road, then shredded the boot methodically. He gave the wallet a few good tears and scattered the contents around. Let them believe it had been an animal attack, with the body dragged away to never be found again. He made sure the driver's license was easy enough to find, and in good enough condition, so that there would be no doubt who this man – Brody Macintyre – had been.

By the time Edward returned to his car, an hour had passed, and the distraction he had so avidly sought had been found. He drove back to his apartment at a somewhat less frantic speed, though still much higher than legal, and only slowed when he reached the city limits.

When he arrived back at his apartment, he took the stairs slowly, even for a human, as though his thoughts weighed him down. He struggled with the idea of the man buried alone, his mind going back continuously to Bella laying alone in the Forks cemetery. He knew the last thing she would want would be for him to be laid out beside her, and yet, there was nothing he yearned for more. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow – there were too many duties to be completed – but he wished dearly that he could look forward to one day returning to her side.

He let himself into his apartment, locking the door behind him. Shrugging off his coat, he hung it in the closet and hesitated. Instead of going to his chair as he'd planned, he turned, stepping into the apartment's bedroom. Willa's music sat on the music tray of the piano, and his bag lay in the corner; from the latter, he pulled an old, wooden pencil, sharpened to a fine point. He sat on the piano bench, setting the pencil down in front of the sheet music, and began to play.

A few bars in he stopped, picking up the pencil and making a few marks on the music. Here, he added a staccato mark; there, he crossed out a quarter note and added a pair of eighths instead. He tried the phrase again, giving a slight nod of satisfaction and continuing on.

It felt surprisingly comfortable working on music like this. The composition may not have been his own, but he had always found a certain solace in composing, tinkering with chords and bits of music, working them for hours until they were perfect. His increased speed and dexterity allowed him more flexibility with a piano than most, and he loved working rich music out of the instrument. He had spent many long and lonely nights sitting at a piano before he had met Bella, and then many joyous afternoons with her by his side listening to him play. Once, he had tried to convince her to learn for herself, but it had been a doomed effort from the start. Her hands were no more coordinated than her feet, and after a few failed renditions of _Chopsticks_, they had leaned against each other, laughing.

"I'm hopeless," Bella had chuckled, laying her hands in her lap. Edward had reached over, taking her hand in his and lifting it to his lips.

"You always make beautiful music to me, love," he had assured her, kissing her hand gently. "Just maybe not on the piano." His lips quirked, and she shook her head.

"Maybe not," she'd agreed. "But promise me you'll teach me once I'm...like you?"

He'd agreed, hesitantly, still unsure at that point about her change despite how desperately a part of him had wanted it. Now, thinking back, he was torn. A part of him wished he had given in to her requests sooner to change her, to preserve her fragile life while he still had the chance, and yet if he had done it, he would not have Renesmee.

Either way, he felt damned. Was it really too much to want them both?

The pencil in his hand snapped, then disintegrated in his grasp, tiny dust falling onto his lap and the floor beneath the piano. Obviously, it was too much, or he would not be enduring this existence today. Obviously, he was not meant to be loved, not as a man to a woman. He was a menace, a threat to humanity.

And here he was working with one of them on this vexing composition.

"Ugh!" Frustrated and overwhelmed, Edward rose quickly to his feet, abandoning the music behind him. The song soothed him, spoke words and expressed emotions he had been bottling for decades. He decided, then, that he would continue on with Willa Monroe, but strictly in a professional manner. He would be her pianist, but nothing more than that, and he would be as off putting as he needed to be to ensure she saw and expected nothing more.

Starting today.

His phone rang in his ear, a quiet but persistent beeping. Dusting the remnants of the pencil off his hands, he reached up and gently touched the button it.

"Sun today," Alice told him cheerily.

"Thanks Alice," he said, realizing his plans for the day were now moot. He could use this to his advantage, though – what better way to start their working relationship than blowing her off? "How long?"

"Just today. Rose and I are heading up to the Mall of New Hampshire and the boys are doing some kind of video game tournament," she answered. No wonder she sounded so chipper; Alice had been looking for an excuse to return to the huge outlet mall she'd discovered at the start of the school year. "You should come over and join them. Of course, you're welcome to come with us too, but I don't think you'd want to. Em says that blowing up zombies is always a great way to blow off some steam on a sunny day, not that I understand that, but whatever. When are you coming over?"

If only the woman needed to stop for breath!

"Alice, thanks, but I think I will just stay at home for the day," he declined, walking into the living room and settling down into his chair.

Alice sighed on the other end of the line. "Oh, Edward. Do we need to have this discussion again? I will come over there and bodily remove you if I need to, dear brother."

"She will," he heard Jasper say in the background.

"Fine, fine. No need to make a scene," Edward caved, knowing too well that she would honestly do it. It wasn't worth the effort to turn her down when she got into these moods. Besides, he could just as easily reminisce on their couch as he could in his apartment. Briefly, his mind wandered back to his attempt to teach Bella the piano, more particularly the hour of solitude in the Cullen's large Forks home before the others had returned. His throat caught at the memory of Bella's arms around him, hands in his hair…

"I'll know if you just spend the whole time sulking," Alice warned him. "So don't you dare!"

Stupid meddling psychic sisters.

Taking a deep breath that helped to calm him, Edward vowed, "I swear to you, I will do my very best to destroy zombies and blow up my brothers."

"Bring it on!" Emmett called in the background, and he heard his two brothers giving each other a high five.

"Great!" Alice exclaimed. "I'll see you at 8. Love you, Edward!" She hung up without waiting for a response, leaving Edward grumbling. Pulling the headset from his ear, he set it down on the table beside him and leaned his head back. Alice's deadline gave him a few more hours to himself before he should get changed and go down to the car, and he intended to use them well. Humming Bella's lullaby, he thought to himself, _Now where was I?_

The beginnings of a smile touched his lips as he sunk back into the memory of Bella in his arms.


	14. Fix This

Sometimes the easiest way to deal with a problem is to ignore it.

Wil stared at the ceiling, listening as the door banged shut outside her room. She held her breath and heard the solid thunk of the deadbolt, then let it out with a long sigh. Rolling over, she eyed the clock: 10:21. She thought they'd never leave.

Thank God their kitchen needed restocking.

Throwing off the covers, she stood up and stretched. She wore a pair of boy shorts and an old grey tee of Andrew's, too large for her but too comfortable to give up. Easing her feet into a pair of brown slippers, she went to the door, cracking it open and peering outside. She listened for a moment before darting to the bathroom.

By the time Alice and Jasper had dropped her off the night before, she'd decided she would avoid the coming conversation. Using the spare key they hid under the mat at the front of the building, she'd let herself in and went straight to bed, blissfully asleep before any of them made it home. She woke early, the sun barely showing itself through her window, and had been laying in her bed since while the others woke, started their day, and decided to go out for breakfast.

They'd called to her a few times, knocking tentatively on her door, but thankfully had not let themselves in. Apparently that lesson only needed to be learned once.

Teeth brushed and hair tamed, she went back to her room and looked around for a minute, wondering how to spend her day. They would be back soon; she knew all three had plans of cramming all weekend long for the coming tests, and Wil planned on being gone by the time they arrived. In the back of her mind, she could almost hear Andrew's voice, scornful and mocking, telling her to stop avoiding them. She glanced at his picture and shushed him.

In reality, all she wanted to do was pretend a little while longer. She knew going through the story for the girls, letting them see that part of her life, would change everything.

She hated change.

Pulling on a green sweater and a pair of jeans, she threw on her coat. Jogging to the kitchen, she opened a cupboard and pulled out a granola bar, tearing it open as she went to the door. The girls had left her purse on the table by the door, and she picked it up, letting herself out of the apartment and locking it behind her. From her pocket she pulled out a grey striped hat, tugging it onto her head and over her ears. She pulled on matching gloves and stepped outside, bracing for a cold that didn't come.

The sun was out in force, snow melting, and she grinned as she removed the hat and gloves, basking in the warmth. It was barely above freezing, but it felt wonderful, and she started down the walk almost smiling. Her life may be falling apart, but at least the sun was out.

It was just after eleven when she stepped into the music building, retreating quickly to the rehearsal room she had often stood outside listening to her pianist – _Edward_, she reminded herself. The strange, reclusive, yet incredibly talented and emotional Edward. Briefly, she thought of his anger when she'd first asked him to perform with her, and then the way he'd breezed in and out as though it was a huge inconvenience to spend the time for her. Irritation flared. Why had he even bothered showing up and committing if it was such an annoyance?

Taking a deep breath, she closed the door behind her and strode over to the piano. The room was fairly small, as most rehearsal rooms were, with a blackboard on one side and a set of windows on the other streaming in sunlight. The walls were white drywall, the floor carpeted, with a single rise step for the upright piano in the corner. A dozen chairs were spread out in an arc in front of the piano, blue plastic, and music stands were lined against one wall.

She stripped off her coat and slid onto the piano bench, running her fingers gently over the piano keys without actually playing. Why had Kate had to discover her secret? Why had she exploded and told them what she did? There were as few answers to either of those questions as there were to the questions she had for Edward.

Why had Andrew been taken from her at all?

"Why, God?" she murmured, softly starting to pluck out a tune. It was choppy and random, nothing she'd heard or played before, just idle hands on a keyboard as she spoke. "I just want my life back. What did I do? What did he do?"

Just once, she wished she had some answers instead of being left with questions. She let the tune carry itself for a while – it was slow and melodic, repetitious and quiet. She felt a lump rising in her throat and bit her bottom lip, fighting against it. "How can I fix this?" she pleaded, and her voice broke. Slamming her hands into the keys, she started to cry.

She wasn't sure how long she sat at the piano crying before a pair of arms wrapped around her from her right, then another from her left. Whipping her head around, her eyes landed on Rhonda, her expression warm. Kate sat on her other side, and Eve wrapped her arms around Wil from behind. "Shhh," one of them murmured, and Wil buried her face into Rhonda's shoulder and let herself cry. She knew she should be angry, should be retreating away, but for the moment she couldn't bring herself to do it.

They sat there for a few minutes, Rhonda stroking Wil's hair and Kate and Eve holding the both of them gently. Pressing her eyes closed, Wil slowed the tears, sucking in a few shaking breaths before pulling away. Make up smudged the shoulder of Rhonda's sweater, and she tried to brush it away. "Sorry," she muttered, and the other woman shook her head.

"Forget about it," she said, letting Wil go. She shifted backward, throwing a leg over the bench to straddle it and face Wil properly. Kate did the same behind her, and Eve crouched down. "You OK?"

For the first time, Wil thought about the question before answering instead of just giving empty reassurances. "Not particularly," she admitted. She wiped at her face with her shirt sleeve, trying to clean herself up a little.

"I'm sorry," Kate blurted out, looking like she was no longer able to contain herself. Her words came rushed as she continued, "I never meant to invade your privacy and I had no idea, Wil, really, I am so, so-"

"Stop," Wil told her, standing and turning so she could sit on the bench facing Eve and the others. Kate immediately froze, staring at Wil with trepidation and waiting as Wil sat back down slowly. "It was bound to happen eventually," she decided, the words taking her by surprise. "I shouldn't have hid it from you guys, but after losing all my other friends when he died… Things were so awkward. So strange. They would look at me like I was some poor abandoned puppy, and they would whisper about me, barely having the decency to do it behind my back."

"They don't deserve you then," Eve announced, shaking her head and reaching for Wil's hands. "That's BS that they treated you that way."

Wil shrugged, squeezing Eve's hands in return. "I didn't know how to act any better than they did. They were our friends, you know, together. It was weird. I kept starting to talk about him, then I'd stop and the tears would start up and…" She trailed off, closing her eyes for a moment to center herself.

"Tell us about him?" Rhonda asked.

"I'm not sure I'm ready," she told them quietly, hanging her head. "I'm afraid things will change."

"They won't," Kate assured her, then added, "But if you aren't ready, we'll wait." The others nodded their agreement, and Eve held her hands tightly, rising and pulling her to her feet. Kate and Rhonda stood beside her, and she looked at all 3 of them.

"Want to do lunch?" Rhonda asked. "We got groceries and were going to do a Denny's run."

"Come on, Wil," Eve said, letting her hands go. "You've got to be starving – it's after noon and you probably haven't eaten anything if I know you."

Wil gasped, looking at her watch. 12:24. She glanced at the door, standing open, and frowned. "You guys didn't chase anyone off, did you?" she asked.

"No, you're the only one here," Kate said, bending down to pick up Wil's coat and hand it to her. "Why?"

"I was supposed to meet my pianist here at noon…" Taking her coat, she pulled it on and reached for her purse. "I guess he's not coming." Her brow knit together, and she couldn't help the disappointment that welled in her. Hopefully he was just sick. But wouldn't he have called? Her number was right on his music. She reached into her pocket and checked to make sure her phone was on. A little blue light flashed at her, and she tucked the headpiece into her ear.

"Messages," she prompted.

"You have zero missed called and zero messages," a polite female voice responded. She sighed, opening her purse and pulling out a note pad and pen.

"Is this guy really worth it?" Rhonda asked. "He seems like a bit of a flake."

"Once you hear him play, you'll understand," Wil mumbled under her breath, scrawling a quick note.

_Waited half an hour – gone to lunch. Catch you Monday –W_

Shoving the pen back into her purse, she pulled out a tissue, blowing her nose. "Here," Rhonda said, handing her a compact open to reveal a small mirror. "You're a mess."

"Gee, thanks," she said, her lips turning up in a bit of a smirk.

By the time Monday rolled around, two things had happened: life had gone back to normal for Wil and her roommates as though nothing had ever happened, and Wil had gone from disappointed to upset to outright angry that Edward had been a no show.

She was fuming as she pounded on the rehearsal room door, predictably closed after her composition class. The music inside stopped immediately, and a moment later, the door started to open slowly. Wil tried to push her way in, meeting surprising resistance against the door. "Let me in, damnit," she growled, and the door gave way to her. She stormed in, spinning on heel and jabbing a finger at Edward.

"I want a good explanation why you bailed on me Saturday," she demanded. He stared at her for a moment, one lip curled up in an almost feral expression. His hair was still a mess, and his eyes were a flat yellow with none of the depth or richness they'd held the Friday before. There were still shadows under his eyes, deeper now.

"I was held up," he spat back. "I'm here today, aren't I?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you're always here at this time. I'm so sorry to have disturbed your busy schedule."

"I don't have to help you, you know," he muttered, then turned and strode back to the piano, sitting down. "Let's get this over with."

"If you're going to be an ass about it, I'll find another pianist," she fired back as she followed him, standing over his shoulder. He already had the music in front of him. Without preamble, she reached over his shoulder, leaning against his back for a moment as she pointed to a few bars before the chorus. She swore she heard him hiss as he leaned forward, pulling away from her.

"I liked your changes here," she told him, her voice still harsh, "but it didn't work with what I was doing. I'm going to change my part a bit – can you do the same thing you did Friday?"

"Of course," he scoffed. He started to play the introduction, and Wil stepped back, giving him more space. "I was looking at it this weekend and I think you could also do with a little less introduction. Try coming in…here."

She nodded, and he started again. This time, Wil came in at the point he'd told her to, and she grudgingly thought that he was right – it made more sense. They ran through the rest of the song, and as it closed, Wil set down her purse and pulled off her jacket. The weather had warmed up again, though a low layer of cloud still left it grey and dreary. She tossed the jacket toward the chair nearest her and pulled a pencil out of her purse. Leaning over Edward's shoulder, she jotted the changes onto his score. Her chest pressed against his back for a moment as she reached for the first page of music, and a shiver ran down her spine when she felt the chill he carried.

"Jesus, what, didn't you wear a coat or something?" she asked, standing back up. "You're freezing."

"Poor circulation," he commented.

"In your back?" She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged, dismissing her question.

"We ought to run it through again. I had an idea for the bridge, but I need to hear your part one more time first," he told her, and they ran it again.

It went like that for an hour and a half, the pair trading jabs and suggestions back and forth. He was an argumentative jerk, but he was also a damn fine musician, and it irked her that he had found a number of ways to improve on her piece. She was grateful at the same time, and she found herself learning a fair bit by the changes he made. By the time she suggested they pack it up, her stomach sounding protest for the length of their work.

"I could use a copy of those changes," she told Edward as he gathered up his music. "Want to grab a bite, give me a chance to take them down?"

He shook his head. "I don't date," he told her blandly, tucking the music into the black folder that lay beside him and standing. Her eyebrows raised.

"I was not asking you out on a date, Edward Cullen," she snapped. "I just want the damn music." She crossed to the chairs, picking up her jacket and purse.

"It sounded like an invitation to me." He smirked, and she gaped at him for a moment.

"You arrogant prick!" With two quick steps forward, she shoved him, snarling at him when he didn't even budge. He chuckled, raising his hands.

"Come now, there's no reason for violence," he chided her, and her eyes narrowed. "Such a fierce little kitten…" He said the last part quietly, almost like he didn't expect her to hear it, and the humor on his face fell away. Her irritation flared at his words, but disappeared quickly when she saw the look of desolation that crossed his expression before he seemed to retreat, putting on a perfectly blank expression. Turning away from her, he made his way to the door.

"I'll get you a copy of the changes," he said over his shoulder, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Once again, Wil was left standing in his wake, staring after him.

"What the hell?" she muttered, shaking her head. Where had that come from? One minute he was acting cocky, the next it looked like…well, like she did, she realized. It all fell into place in a rush. She'd been in his shoes too many times, when things are going normally and suddenly something reminds her of Andrew. The sudden mood shifts, the uncaring exterior, his music, it all came together like a puzzle.

He had lost someone too. She didn't just suspect it any longer, she knew.

That changed a lot. Suddenly, she felt terrible for how she'd treated him. She had to make this right. Sprinting forward, she rushed through the door before stopping. She had no idea where to find him, didn't even know his number. There was no use chasing him; she was too far behind and he was probably already gone.

With a sigh, she started home. Her stomach growled again and she placed a hand on it, willing it to quiet. Rhonda was supposed to be cooking, and as she hurried across campus to their apartment, she hoped there would be something waiting for her.

Dinner was a quiet affair in front of the TV. There was little pomp and circumstance to their meals; they took places into the living room and turned on the news or the latest trashy entertainment report show, the others discussing the latest stars and their hook ups and break ups. Wil tuned them out mostly, taking bites of the breaded chicken Rhonda had made and scooping up gravy with each bite.

Once she had made her realization about Edward, she found herself fixated on it. In all honesty, she suddenly saw in him someone who understood, someone who _got it_. Who had he lost? A girlfriend? A fiancée? A wife? Or had it been someone else, but just as dear – a parent or a sibling? Cutting a piece of chicken in half, she jabbed it with her fork and stuffed it into her mouth. He'd said he didn't date…a gorgeous guy like him? Either he had lost a woman, or he was gay. Her lips quirked up in a grin at that thought; the mere idea of a man that good looking being gay would bring her roommates to their knees.

The questions kept rolling in her mind. How long had it been? How long had they been together? What had she been like? Deciding it had to be a romantic loss, she found herself beginning to create a story for him. A beautiful woman, at least as beautiful as he was, with golden tresses and flawless skin, the love of his life from the time they were babies, who got deathly ill and faded away before his eyes…

Wil snorted, trying to suppress a laugh, and ended up choking. Coughing fitfully, she bent over, and Rhonda slammed a hand on her back.

"You all right there, girl?" she asked, and Wil nodded, then shook her head, trying to clear her throat. The chunk dislodged, and she sucked in a breath, sitting back up.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," she assured them, standing up and waving them off. "I think I'm done though." She smirked, taking her nearly empty plate to the kitchen and dumping it unceremoniously in the sink. It clattered briefly before settling, and she turned her back, returning to the living room.

The girls had gone back to their discussion – currently debating the merits of an aging Robert Pattinson versus the younger Sebastian Gregoire – and Wil left them to it, disappearing into the bathroom and turning on the shower. She undressed quickly while the bathroom steamed up, then stepped into the stream of water and let the warmth envelope her. She always preferred her showers hot and long, and in an apartment full of women, neither of those was particularly easy to come by in the morning. Turning, she let the hot water beat on her back, easing muscles as she went back to her thoughts.

First hand experience reminded her that loss was never as romantic and epic as they made it seem on TV and in movies. There were no perfect couples, no lovestruck losses – a relationship was hard work to begin with, and when you lost it, it was usually more like a bullet to the head, sudden and unexpected, leaving plenty of mess in its wake. She started to create a new scene in her mind, Edward answer the door to find a pair of police offices, their faces grim. They would ask him if the woman lived there, and when he said yes and invited them in, they'd ask him to take a seat. He'd be concerned by then, moving slowly to prolong the inevitable moment that they shattered his world…

She turned the water off and reached for a towel. Wrapping her hair up in it, she banished her train of thought, trying to ignore the constricting feeling in her chest. That was exactly how it would go. She could still hear their voices in her mind telling her there had been an accident.

Pulling on her ankle length green robe, she opened the bathroom door, the last of the steam rolling out. She put a hand on the towel wrap on his head, making sure it was still secure, then stepped out into the hall.

"Wil – come here!" Kate called from the living room, and she turned, poking her head around the corner. Kate hopped up from her place beside Eve, who was painting her toenails on the couch, and grabbed a black folder from the coffee table. "Here," she said, crossing the room and holding it out. "Someone knocked while you were in the shower and left this on the floor outside the door."

A small yellow note was stuck to the front of the folder, an elegant script reading simply, Willa. She flipped it open and found a perfect copy of her song, hand written on beautiful sheet music with a monogrammed "E.C." in the bottom corner.

"Thanks…" she muttered, turning and going to her room while looking over the music. All of the changes they'd made were there, and a number of other comments and suggestions were scrawled in the margins. As she kicked her bedroom door closed behind her, she hummed a few bars, running her fingers over the monogram on the paper and wondering at the thoughtfulness of his gesture after their argumentative rehearsal.

By the time she fell asleep, the sheet music was covered in new scratches and thoughts, and she was officially obsessed with her brilliantly bipolar pianist.


	15. No One Seems to Understand

The song was in his head constantly, taunting him and soothing him at the same time. It was infuriating in a way, following him around in everything he did. After his brothers had asked him what he was humming Monday night, he'd been avoiding them – not that that was unusual, but it irked him that he was avoiding them because of some external force rather than his own disinterest in their company.

It amazed him that a human, someone so _young_, could have the depth of feeling the song conveyed. Of course, that was just another for the list of similarities between this woman and his Bella that was so frustrating. At times, he found himself wondering what had happened to her before quickly reminding himself that he should not care, did not care, and had no right to care.

He retreated to the music building after his midday lecture, settling onto the piano bench. Instead of playing, however, he stared at the door, a strange twinge of anxiety nibbling at him. _I should just leave,_ he told himself, though he did not rise. It was the truth, though: he was out of his mind to have any sort of interaction with humans. Just look at how it had worked out the last time!

He still wanted to know why her mind was veiled like it was. Over an hour they had been in this room, just the two of them, and the most he had heard from her was a whisper of jumbled words he could not understand.

Growling, he ran a hand through his hair and began to play without thought. After a moment, he recognized that he was playing a lullaby. No, not a lullaby, _the_ lullaby - the only one in his world. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to remember all of the nights he had laid in Bella's bed humming this song, his arms around her while she curled into him and slept. Such perfect times could never have lasted, and he should have known that. On some level, he had.

The hinges of a door creaked open, but he ignored them and continued to play, revisiting every strand of Bella's hair as it spread out on her pillow, the peaceful and gentle look on her face, her lips parted slightly. Their daughter looked so much like her mother when she slept, and a part of him wished he had not lost the chance to see them in bed together, Bella – still beautifully human – with her infant daughter cradled in her arms, the two of them resting peacefully.

Of course, that had been impossible. Even if Bella had survived, she would have survived as a vampire. If only he were human, and Bella had been able to carry his child as any mother might…

The song came to an end, and he allowed the last notes to hover in the air with his eyes still closed, unwilling to leave behind the vision in his mind.

"That's so beautiful," Willa murmured once the last notes had faded. He nodded in agreement, though they spoke of different things. "Is it yours?" she asked him.

"Yes," he told her, taking a moment to gather himself. He opened his eyes, pulling himself back to reality. "I wrote it a few years ago." His voice was rich with emotion, and he cleared his throat. Reminding himself to keep this woman at arm's length, he let his voice harden. "I see you got the music I left for you."

She sighed, nodding. "I did, thank you. I went over the comments you left and made a few changes I'd like you to look over." She handed her folder to him, and he took it without a word. Flipping it open, he saw that she had erased some of his notations and finalized others on the front sheet, as well as making some changes of her own. The end result was strong, and though he refused to let her know it, he realized she had a knack for composition.

"A few things I couldn't bring myself to change," she commented. "But I did like some of the suggestions you made for the second verse, varying it. I think it better conveyed the changes."

He nodded absently, setting the music on the stand and flipping a sheet over. He read over the notes, then laid his fingers on the piano keys, playing through a change she'd made on the second page. Remembering his company, he made himself blink, and Bella's eyes watched him in the darkness behind his eyelids. She would have loved this song.

She would never have needed to hear it.

"His name is Andrew," Willa said softly, drawing his attention back to her. He looked up and raised an eyebrow, his fingers still running through the song's chorus. "The song," she explained. "He inspired it. I was hoping to dedicate the performance to him…"

So there it was, he realized. She wrote with such poignancy because she had lost a love as well. It made sense, and he had suspected as much, but hearing it aloud was odd. It was a simple confirmation of what he'd already deduced, and yet it struck another chord within him. Here was one who might understand, at last, what he had lost…

He shed the thought as Willa continued, "He died in May, a construction accident. He went out to pick up some milk – I'd forgotten to grab it on my way home – and they were working on the building. A support snapped above him." She trailed off, and Edward turned back to the music without comment, but not before seeing the guilt that flashed in her eyes.

And here he was being so rude to her. He knew it was best for both of them, but something twisted in his stomach at the thought of being so callous to one so young who suffered so much. He saw echoes of Bella in her, the Bella he had seen in Italy, drawn and wasting away after losing the other half of herself. Edward had to fight back a grimace at the memory; he had caused that pain, had caused his love to become a mere shadow of who she truly was. Edward had noticed it the first time he'd met Willa - the way she didn't quite seem to weigh enough for her frame, the way she always seemed to collapse into herself when she spoke - but hadn't thought much of it.

She pushed away from the piano and crossed the room, dragging a plastic chair back to sit beside the piano bench. When she perched on its edge, he tried to slip into her mind and was once again turned away. Without a word, Willa pointed to a section near the middle of the song, and Edward jumped to that spot in the music. They ran through the bridge and on to the end of the song, trying out some of the things she had adapted from his suggestions. Reaching into her bag set on the floor beside her, she withdrew a pencil and scribbled a quick change onto the music. Edward nodded his approval.

They worked for over an hour. They would run through a section, one of them marking a slight change onto the score then gesturing to a different section. After working each part like that, they ran through the song twice. Wil reached up to her headset the second time through, tapping the button and whispering, "Record." Giving him a nod, he started from the top of the piece, and Wil closed her eyes as she sang. Once the last notes had faded from the piano, she touched the button again, ending the recording.

"What's your number?" she asked, and he looked up at her sharply. What did she want that for? Was she seriously trying to ask him out again? He thought he'd rebuffed that well enough the last time. "Don't give me that look, it's just so I can send you the recording. I figure it will help us get a more objective idea of how things are shaping up, maybe give us a few more ideas of what might work or not."

"EC – 0273 – WA," he told her after a moment's consideration. It was a fair request. She tapped her headset, storing the number into memory, and a curious look crossed her face. She found something curious about his number; probably just taking in the fact that it was from the other side of the country. The Washington-based cell phone numbers were a conversion from years back, using their old property to give them a home address in the US while they still resided overseas.

"I'll download it tonight and send it to you," she promised. He shrugged, gathering up his music and reaching for his black folder.

"Whatever time works best," he told her, closing his folder. "I will have copies of our changes for you like the last time."

"No rush." She picked up her own sheets, stuffing them into her folder haphazardly and sliding it into her tablet bag. Edward gave her an absent nod, pretending to be oblivious to her as he packed up his bag and got his coat on.

"Listen," Willa said suddenly, her voice soft. "Thanks again." Her voice wavered as she said it, and as Edward watched her from the corner of his eye, he saw another glimpse of the pain she was hiding. She was not quite as good as he was, but she had found some way to push it aside as they were working. It was as though she wore a mask of normalcy, and it reminded him much of his own. He slung his bag over his shoulder and started for the door before some foreign urge made him hesitate.

"My angel's name is Bella." The words came out in a quiet rush, surprising him. He did not turn to face her as he continued, "She died…a lifetime ago. No one seems to understand that it never gets better, just easier to hide. This helps."

What was he _doing_?

He strode quickly out of the building, retreating to the parking lot. He remembered, belatedly, that he should have reacted to the cold as he stepped out into it, but it was too late for that and there were few people around to notice. Only one of the students that were passing through this part of the campus even took note of him, but he blocked out her perverted mind without dwelling on her thoughts – this he was used to. This was his comfort zone, ignoring and blocking out the world around him.

He'd made a mistake allowing someone in, and now he felt the stirrings of something he'd pushed off for years: companionship. Even with his family, he had been careful to maintain a certain distance. He had to; his pain hurt them, and he was tired of causing others to hurt. He knew just how much losing Bella had affected all of his siblings, Alice in particular, and was shamed by it.

Never mind the pain he'd caused Renesmee by failing to save her mother.

He got into his car and started toward his apartment, briefly considering that he might go join his siblings for the evening. He decided against it almost immediately, preferring the solitude of his chair and his thoughts. He'd call Renesmee tonight though; it would be good to hear her voice. It would anchor him, and perhaps remind him why he kept a distance from everyone…especially humans.

God was taunting him with Willa, with someone so like but unlike Bella, someone who knew loss. This was his latest punishment.

_Or your salvation._

The voice was Bella's, and he sat up when he heard it in his mind. This had happened from time to time, often when he had not hunted for a while… The delusions were almost comical. A crazy vampire – who would imagine it? She had confided in him, however, that she had heard his voice when he was away, and he was never surprised that he now heard her counsel. She was, after all, the better part of him.

As much as he wanted to embrace her words, to embrace anything _Bella_, he brushed away the thought. He chuckled when the Bella in his mind gave a frustrated huff, and he could almost see her stomping her foot at him.

_Stubborn vampire._

He agreed wholeheartedly with her assessment as he arrived at his apartment. From the car to his chair, he moved at a painfully slow, human pace, settling into its soft embrace as though it were his love's. The voice silenced as he sank into memories once more.

In his mind, they lay on the beach of Isle Esme, entwined in each other's arms. The sun beat down on them, warming Edward's skin to a comfortable temperature for her, so he didn't worry that she might be cold clad in only the absolutely gorgeous swimsuit that Alice had packed for her. It was a deep blue that stirred so many feelings in him, ones he finally no longer had to quell. A smile playing on his lips, he kissed her thoroughly, then pulled away to stare back up at the sky. White, perfect clouds floated overhead, and they had been – of all things – pointing out the shapes they saw.

One shadowed the sun for a moment, and Bella's mood seemed to shift with it.

"You have to change me soon," she said, bringing up a familiar conversation once again. There was a slight hesitation in her voice, however, as though she might be struggling with the idea. It had been this way since they began their honeymoon.

"Only if you want me to, love," he assured her. She pushed up onto her elbows, turning to look at him.

"I do," she told him firmly. "I worry… I worry about getting sick, or getting into an accident, or – I don't know, getting struck by lightning."

He chuckled, reaching out to brush her check with his hand. "Only you would worry about being struck by lightning on a clear day." Her lips twitched.

"Danger magnet," they said at the same time, and she laughed. The sound was magic to him. "Really, though, Edward – what would you do if you lost me?"

She worried about him, not herself. Of course she did; that was typical Bella. He pulled her on top of him, marveling in the feel of her body against his. "You know what I would do."

"Yes. And I don't like it." She laid her head on his chest and he stroked her hair absently. "I would tell you not to if I thought you would listen. I would want you to try to live, maybe even…move on…"

"Impossible!" The word ripped out of him immediately.

"I know," she agreed. "I couldn't either, remember? But I wouldn't want you to die."

He hated the direction the conversation was taking, so he started to roll, flipping her over so that she was captured beneath him. Lowering his lips to her neck, he murmured, "It is a good thing neither of us will have to." He nipped at her neck, no teeth of course, but she got the idea. Running his lips up to her jaw, then to her ear, he-

The phone rang, tearing him from his memories. He suppressed a growl and heaved a put out sigh. Patiently, he let the call roll to his voicemail, letting the lingering feelings of his reverie settle until a tone in his ear told him the caller had left a message. He tapped the headset.

"Edward, it's Wil," the message began. "Don't worry about the copy tonight; no one will be home this evening. Hold onto it until I see you Friday, unless you want to swing by and drop it off at Molly's. I'll be going over the recording there for a while. If I don't see you, I'll send it to you later, but…" She stopped suddenly, and her voice was shaky when she began to speak again. "Anyway, I'll see you around. Bye."

"Delete message," he said quietly, running a hand through his hair. What should he make of that? Did she want to get her music – or see him? Should he go?

No. He should not go.

Taking the headset from his ear, he set it down on the table and let his mind wander again.


	16. Dreadfully Familiar

"Do you want a copy of this?" Wil asked as she ended the recording she'd just made. She and Edward had just spent over an hour running and rerunning her piece, and she could almost still hear it in her mind as he rose from behind the piano.

"Please," he told her, taking her off guard. It was the first time he had actually asked for a copy of the piece. "And I will have a copy of our final mark ups for you tonight, so you can obsess as you always do." He gave her a pointed look and she rolled her eyes, gathering her sheet music and sliding it into her folder.

The back and forth between them had become comfortable over the past couple weeks. There was still always an edge between them, each keeping the other at a careful distance, but it had taken more of a teasing tone than then angry spats they'd had in the beginning. The pair had fallen into a comfortable routine, meeting every other weekday in the same rehearsal room to run the piece and make changes. She hated to admit it, but Edward had really elevated her piece to the next level, and she wondered what she would have done without him.

"Listen," she said as she pulled on her coat, turning to him. He continued to pack his own bag, not looking up. "Thank you for all your help again. I can't say it enough; I'd have been absolutely stranded without you."

"I know," Edward commented blandly, but when he looked up, a crooked grin was playing on his lips. It disappeared quickly – it always did – and the wall was back up again. "Will we meet here Friday?" he asked, back to business.

"Only if you feel we need to," Wil told him. "I think we are as ready as we're going to be. Do you want to meet before Dress?"

He shook his head, and said definitively, "No." He pulled his bag over his shoulder and strode to the door, letting himself out. That seemed to be a part of their routine as well; after the day he had paused at the door, speaking of Bella, he never stopped to say goodbye. He almost seemed to be fleeing the room before any conversation outside their music could begin. Wil had tried a few times to bring the subject of either Bella or Andrew up, yearning to find that connection between them, but he always shut her down.

As she grabbed her purse, she hesitated a moment, looking around the room. This was the last time they would be putting it to use after countless hours spent here. Briefly, she wondered if Edward would go back to his usual routine here once she was no longer joining him, and she decided quickly that even if he was, she would not. It would be too awkward if he ever caught her hovering outside the door, and knowing him as she did now, she knew he would be deeply bothered by the invasion of his privacy. Soon, then, it would all be over. She turned off the lights, closing the door behind her, and pushed the thought out of her mind.

The wind was biting as she stepped out of the building, and she tugged her coat close around her, ducking her head. The campus was quieter than usual; they must have been working for longer than she thought. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was her night to cook and she was running behind. Cursing into the wind, she clutched her bags close to her side and started off at a sprint, the wind pulling at her hair. Too soon, she slowed, huffing and catching her breath.

She was far too out of shape for a college student. Maybe she should have made a new years' resolution after all.

At a more reasonable pace, she finished the walk across campus to her apartment. Letting herself into the building, she took a moment to rub her hands together before going up the stairs. When she walked into the apartment, losing her coat and bags quickly, she rushed through the living room on her way to the kitchen. Kate and Eve were parked on the couch, Kate watching Entertainment Tonight and Eve tapping thoughtfully on her tablet.

"Just us tonight?" Wil asked as she opened up a cupboard, reaching for a jar of alfredo sauce.

"Yeah, Rhonda left a note saying she and Jeremy were going out for dinner," Kate said, picking up the remote and switching channels. "Everything cool? I was about to call for pizza."

Wil went for another cupboard, taking out a large pot. She took it to the sink. "Everything's fine," she told Kate as she waited for the pot to fill. "I was working with Edward on my piece, and time got away from me I guess. Got a second?"

"Sure." Kate rose from the couch and Wil reached up, pulling the headpiece from her ear and tossing it across the room to her. She caught it easily.

"My tablet's by the door; can you sync that up and pull down the latest file, please?" Wil turned off the water and went to the stove, setting the pot down and pushing a button to turn on the element. Kate disappeared for a minute, returning to the couch with Wil's tablet in hand.

"You know," Kate started as she turned the tablet on, "You're spending a lot of time with this Edward guy. I have never seen you spend so much time out of the apartment. Is there something we should know?"

Wil swallowed a smirk and opened another cupboard door, using it to hide an eye roll as she pulled out a package of noodles. "He's the key to my getting an A in this course, not to mention avoiding making a complete fool of myself at the recital Sunday. Of course I'm spending a lot of time with him."

Suddenly, Edward's piano playing filled the air. "Shit," Kate mumbled, lowering the volume on the tablet. "Why do you keep this thing so loud?" The music continued at a softer volume, and Wil glanced up, raising an eyebrow.

"To bust nosy roommates when they try to listen to my stuff," she answered, her voice dry. As the water came to a boil, she dumped in the noodles. Despite the chastising, she let the song play on, listening with a critical ear as she went to the fridge and found a bag of pre-cooked chicken. She grabbed a skillet and started to heat it, pouring the sauce on the chicken once it was warm.

When the music ended, the only sound in the apartment was the popping of the sauce as it simmered. "Wow," Kate breathed after a moment, setting the tablet down on the end table. "Wil, that's good. Like, seriously good."

A faint blush crept into Wil's cheeks as Eve nodded her agreement, looking up for the first time from her screen. Thankfully, a knock came at the door, diverting everyone's attention before she could become too embarrassed. She stirred the sauce one last time before removing it from the stove and setting it on a pad on the counter. As she was draining the noodles, she heard the door open, and a moment later a very flustered looking Jeremy came around the corner.

He reached up to rub the back of his neck as his eyes landed on Wil, and he frowned.

"Rhon's not here?" he said dully. "Tell me one of you knows where she is." His shoulders were taut, and he turned away from the kitchen, scanning the apartment once again as though Rhonda might suddenly appear.

"With you, we thought," Eve said, and she set down her tablet. "What's going on?"

"We were supposed to meet at my place," Jeremy told them, "but she didn't show. I swung by her last class and her car's still in the lot, but… God, where could she be, guys? Help me out here!"

As he spoke, his voice got more and more frantic. The two of them had been spending a lot of time together, growing more serious as the winter wore on, but this was the first time Wil could truly see how much he cared for her. She slipped out from behind the counter, setting a hand on his shoulder and steering him toward the couch. "You've tried to call her?"

"Of course I have!" he snapped, perching on the edge of one of the cushions like a spring ready to recoil at any moment. "It goes straight to voicemail."

"She never leaves her calls off," Kate commented with a frown. "Maybe she just got caught up talking with someone from class, went for coffee?" It was a stretch and everyone knew it; Rhonda was hardly the type to blow anyone off, especially Jeremy. Even though it was the most likely answer, it felt wrong, and an ominous feeling came over Wil as she thought about it. Where could she have gone without her car, and why wouldn't she call? The situation had a dreadfully familiar feel to it that Wil refused to acknowledge.

Eve stood, striding toward the door. Grabbing her coat, she slung it on and looked over at the others.

"Well?" she asked. "Aren't you going to help look for her?"

Everyone followed, dinner long forgotten.

They split up when they reached the parking lot, Kate and Eve speeding away in their car with a promise to call if they found her at any of the usual haunts. That left Jeremy and Wil to head back to where Rhonda's car had been parked, hoping but not really expecting to find anything of worth there. They sat in uncomfortable silence in Jeremy's car as it carried them across campus. It smelled of Rhonda's perfume, and Jeremy kept taking deep breaths, probably in hopes of calming himself with the scent. Wil, instead, wrung her hands and tried to focus on each sidewalk they passed, as though through sheer power of will Rhonda would appear.

Rhonda's blue Ford compact still sat all alone in the darkening lot. The lights overhead had come to life not long ago, bathing the lot in a dull blue glow. Jeremy pulled up next to the car and got out, going to the drive side window and peering in.

"No keys, no purse, nothing," he muttered as Wil got out of the car. Standing up, he slammed a gloved fist onto the roof of her car.

Wil set a hand on his shoulder, not saying a word, and he looked back at her bleakly.

Splitting up, Jeremy started toward the back of the building while Wil walked the parking lot. She tucked her hands under her arms and studied the ground for anything, though she wasn't quite sure what. All she found was concrete and asphalt and the leftovers of last week's snow lingering in corners. She jumped when a car sped past the lot, the purr of the engine breaking the silence that had enveloped her, and it was long gone before she calmed herself.

She could be anywhere, Wil coached herself, thinking with conviction that she was no doubt perfectly fine and Eve would call any minute to tell them so. There was a small pit in her stomach that whispered otherwise, though, and it was far too familiar to the one she'd felt when Andrew had been late coming home the day he died.

"Wil!" Jeremy's voice broke through her thoughts, and she spun. He was sprinting toward her with something in his hand. She squinted at him, but with the last of the sun directly behind him, she couldn't make see a thing until he was beside her. Panting slightly despite his athletic physique, he handed her a purse.

Rhonda's purse.

Wil swore quietly, popping it open. Everything was still in it: keys, ID, make up, her cards. The pit in her stomach expanded into a rock, weighing her down.

"We have to call the police," Jeremy said, and when Wil looked up at him, he was studying her expression. "She'd be missing this, wouldn't she?" Wil nodded dumbly, handing it back to him. He took it and they walked back to his car side by side. The lights flashed, signaling the doors were unlocked, and when they climbed in he set the purse in his lap almost reverently. Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his neck before touching his headpiece.

"Police," he said solemnly, and waited a moment. Wil could hear the connection ringing, and a muffled voice when someone answered. "I'd like to report a missing person," Jeremy told the officer. Wil strained to hear the person on the other end but couldn't make out any words. "Yes, sir, her name is Rhonda Wallace – yes, she's a student – we were supposed to meet each other a couple hours ago, but her car has been abandoned." He frowned deeply and explained, "But sir, she wouldn't have just left her car… We found her purse behind the building on the ground as well. She's not answering her calls. – No, I'm her boyfriend. – But – All right, thank you sir, I will." Reaching up, he pulled the headpiece out of his ear and flung it at the dashboard with a snarl.

The look on his face was murderous. Wil stared at him as the headpiece clattered off the dash and bounced its way down to his feet. Briefly, she wondered if he was going to stomp on the thing, but instead he leaned back and let out a slow breath.

"24 hours." Jeremy took another deep breath and explained, "They require at least 24 hours for missing persons reports on campus. Do you know what could happen in 24 hours?"

The catch his in voice told Wil she didn't need to answer. Instead, she reached up and tapped the nav panel, setting it to her address. As the engine purred to life, Wil set a hand on Jeremy's knee and gave it a squeeze.

"Crash on our couch tonight," she told him in a gentle voice, sounding far calmer than she felt. "When she comes home, you'll be the first to know."

He turned to her then with a bleak look that broke her heart. "And if she doesn't?" he asked, and his words hung heavy in the car.

"She will." Wil's reassurances fell flat, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. Once they got back to the girls' apartment, Jeremy took control of the car, parking in silence and letting the engine die. A few snowflakes began to float down from the sky, clinging to Wil's hair as she got out of the car. One caught her eyelash and she blinked it away, feeling tears squeeze out as she did. She brushed them away and closed the door behind her.

Wil fell into step beside Jeremy, and together they made their way into the apartment building. Slipping ahead of him, Wil trudged up the stairs slowly, reaching for her purse and blinding rifling around for her keys.

"Willa, there you are," a velvet voice murmured as she reached the top step, and she glanced up sharply, her gaze meeting Edward's. Her breath caught when she noticed his eyes, black as pitch, boring into her. She swallowed thickly. Heat built its way up her neck as she stood frozen under his gaze, and she found her voice.

"Listen, if you're upset I haven't sent you the recording yet, I've been busy, all right? It's…not a good night," she said in a rush. She found her keys, pulling them out of her purse and pushing past him. Her foot caught something and she stumbled forward before an arm caught her around the waist.

"Please don't think I'm upset with you," Edward whispered in her ear. They stood for a moment, and Wil glanced over at him before casting a pointed look down at his arm. He gave a small gasp and pulled away quickly, a strange look crossing his features briefly before his usual calm returned. Bending down, he picked up the folder she'd tripped on and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she muttered, snatching it from him.

"See you Friday." He turned from her swiftly, passing Jeremy without a glance and jogging down the stairs. For what it was worth, Jeremy seemed lost in his own thoughts, turning Rhonda's purse over in his hands with an anxious look. Giving a ragged sigh, Wil took the purse from him gently.

"Come on," she said as she threw the purse over her shoulder and started for the door. "I'll order some pizza, and we can wait for everyone to get home."

The night passed slowly. Wil cleaned the kitchen while Jeremy watched TV with a blank stare that probably didn't see a single moment of the shows he had on. When Kate and Eve returned home with no success, they noticed Rhonda's purse sitting on the couch beside Jeremy and sighed in relief; Wil had to tell them what had happened, watching them both sink into silence. The pizza was tasteless, and as soon as it was gone they all retired, Wil retrieving a pillow and blanket from her room for Jeremy to use on the couch. No one wanted to go into Rhonda's room – especially him.

When the next morning came, it was as though a countdown had begun. Wil went through her classes mechanically, checking her watch often. Rhonda's last class would have ended at 4 the day before; Jeremy vowed he would be on the phone at 4 sharp, not a moment later. Kate had claimed in the morning that she knew Rhonda would be bouncing through the door at any moment, a false smile on her lips that mirrored the thoughts of everyone else.

They knew she wouldn't be coming home on her own if she hadn't already.

At noon, Wil's phone had buzzed in her ear, and she jumped out of her seat in the library, fumbling for the button and praying for good news. She nearly cried when she heard Edward's voice reminding her about the recording she's promised to send, disappointment filling her.

Finally, Jeremy, Wil, Kate, and Eve gathered in the girls' living room and Jeremy called the police a second time.

Wil glanced at Kate and Eve, sitting on the couch holding hands, and then looked down at her own clasped hands and focused on her breathing. A part of her heard Jeremy speaking on the phone, but she couldn't concentrate on the words. Images of police officers flitted through her mind, arriving at her door, escorting her to the hospital… She pressed her eyes shut, willing the thoughts away, and was relieved when Jeremy laid a hand on her shoulder.

"They want us to go down to the campus station," he said. "We're supposed to bring her purse, as well as the activator for her car and some pictures. They'll file a report…" He trailed off, and when Wil looked up, she recognized the shell shocked look on his face.

"I'll get her purse," Eve said, rising from the couch. She went to her bedroom, disappearing for a moment, and Kate leaned across the couch to grab her tablet.

"I should have some pictures," she muttered to herself, tapping the screen to bring it to life. Jeremy offered Wil a hand, and she took it, bringing him into a hug as she got to her feet. She couldn't find any words, but when he placed his hands on her back, she decided none were necessary. They stepped apart and moved toward the door, getting their coats.

The four of them squeezed into Jeremy's car, Kate and Eve talking in hushed voices about what else they might want to give the police to help their search. When Kate started to talk about creating "lost woman" posters, Wil tuned them out, watching as the campus sped by. The memories were becoming oppressive; the last time she'd even spoken to a police officer had been the day of Andrew's death. She remembered the looks on their faces, grim and sympathetic under their caps, the way one of them had reached up and removed it before asking to come in. There had been reports to file and questions to answer long into the evening, done in plain white rooms with cold chairs and mechanical glows from the tablets the men had carried.

By the time they'd gotten to the station, her breath came in difficult gasps, and she lowered her head between her knees.

"Hey," Kate said, touching her shoulder. "You all right?"

Someone opened Wil's door, a burst of cold air catching her, and gentle hands urged her out of the car. "Bad memories?" Eve guessed, and Wil nodded, afraid to look at the woman and see the pity in her eyes. "We're here, and Rhonda's fine. It's not the same."

Wasn't it? She wanted to challenge Eve, but couldn't find the voice. Instead, Wil took a deep breath and nodded. Jeremy led the way into the tiny campus substation, going to the front desk and placing his hands on the counter. Wil thought she noticed a slight tremor in them before he set them down.

"We're here to file a missing person report."


	17. Company

The call came as he was finishing the final copy of Wil's song. He dismissed it at first, setting the sheets aside – two copies, one for himself and one that would go into a folder for her – and let the phone roll to voicemail. When it rang a second time, then a third, he finally answered, and the words Alice had spoken still rang in his mind.

"We're going to have company," she said. "Soon, but I can't pinpoint when. But there's a newborn, Edward, and I don't know why."

Without the last part, it would have been relatively innocuous. They were used to crossing paths with other vampires as they wandered the country, and it was usually a fairly easy thing to take care of: his family would meet with the newcomer, tell them that this was their territory, and the other would go on his way. A newborn complicated matters, made it difficult and dangerous – not for them, but for the humans until they could get the situation under control.

"I'll be over." He hung up then, and half an hour later, he was letting himself into his siblings' home. The four were already gathered in the living room, leaning forward in deep conversation that, to a human, would barely pass above a whisper and would be far too quick to understand.

"Finally," Jasper said, glancing up at Edward as his brother joined their circle. None of them sat; there was no need to, and they were all too tense to want to keep up the charade. Their fears echoed in their minds, bouncing off Edward all at once.

_I don't want to leave,_ from Rosalie. _We just settled all together, and it's nice to be States-side again._

_God, this'll kill Rosie,_ Emmett echoed, his hand ghosting against the small of her back in reassurance. She leaned against him without thinking about it, trying to soak in his comfort.

Jasper's mind was already in full military mode, drawing on his training from so many years ago. _Two of them, five of us – but we don't know where they are. We'll need to start scouting, especially at night. Solo, or two man teams?_ He glanced at Edward with the last, and he gave a slight shake of his head in response. They'd discuss it together.

_So many will die…_ Alice was trying to keep him out of her mind, going over the last issue of _Vogue_ magazine page by page, but snippets slipped through like grains of sand, images of death and blood, headlines of newspapers. If they didn't do something, this could turn into a disaster.

"Fill me in," Edward requested, glancing around the circle. Briefly, his throat constricted as he saw the obvious solace the couples were taking in their mates – Emmett and Rosalie in each other's arms, Jasper and Alice holding hands – but he pushed that aside. It would help no one, no matter how deeply he yearned to have his own mate by his side.

"It's hard without any concrete decisions," Alice admitted. "I see two vampires, an older male with black, crew cut hair – turned in his mid-twenties – and then a newborn, but the newborn changes constantly. Sometimes a man, sometimes a woman; sometimes there is one, sometimes two or three together."

"Best guess," Jasper offered, "is that he plans on changing someone, but hasn't decided who or when."

"So it could be a local, or he could bring the newborn with him?" Edward asked, and Alice nodded her agreement.

"So where is he?" Emmett gave Rosalie a soft squeeze. "Why not take this to him, stop him from doing it?"

Alice slipped her hand out of Jasper's and rubbed her temples. "I can't _see_ that part," she complained, almost in a whine. "I never see him anywhere in town, so it could be just about anywhere. A road with no signs, weaving through the countryside, obviously toward Hanover, since I do see him on campus at one point."

All of them stiffened at the implications of that. If it got out of hand, and the Volturi decided to investigate… Well, they were technically on friendly terms with the Italians, but none of them really cared to come into their radar. Aro in particular was far too curious about Renesmee and the implications of a half-vampire; only from sheer numbers had they dissuaded the ancient vampire from attempting to steal her away to "better monitor her development."

No, it was much better if they never gave the Volturi a reason to think of the Cullen family.

"So we patrol for now." Jasper voiced his thoughts definitively, looking around at the family. "Wide circles, see if we can pick up anything before they get too close. We'll need to assume he already has the newborn with him."

They all nodded, and Rosalie added, "We should go in pairs then. Me and Em, Alice with Jasper. Edward…"

"I'll be fine," he jumped in, waving a hand in dismissal. "I'll be able to 'hear' them coming, and can break off if I'm out numbered."

Jasper nodded his approval. "Starting tonight then?"

"Yeah, the sooner we start looking, the sooner we find him," Emmett agreed. "I want first shift though – er, if that's OK with you, baby." Rosalie had frowned, and from her mind, Edward saw the plans she'd made for the evening. Rosalie glanced at Alice, who she was supposed to see a movie with, but before she could speak Edward cut her off.

"No, let me," he told them. "As you all tell me anyway, I have nothing better to do." He smirked, taking the edge off the comment before they could protest. "I could use a good run anyway, and he won't be bringing a newborn with him yet, so I will be able to intercept him on my own if I do find him. Alice?"

She met his gaze, and the image of the nomad came to her mind for him. He was probably an inch or two shorter than Edward with a wirey build. His change had refined his body, but he held himself like a soldier, something his short hair would lend itself to; his facial features were sharp, and his red eyes calculating.

"Thanks," he murmured, and she gave him a small grin. "I will call if I pick up on anything."

"Keep your phone on," Alice told him. "If I get anything more, I'll let you know."

Edward nodded and let himself back out. Settling into his car, he turned it on and tapped an address into the nav, then let himself begin his planning. He'd go west, he decided at random, simply because it felt right. Go out a few hundred miles and start to circle back around, weaving a little to try to pick up any stray scents or anything that might indicate a vampire had come through recently. He expected to find very little this early, with as little as Alice was seeing, but Emmett was right: the sooner they dealt with the visitor, the less they had to worry about.

It had been a long time since he had fought; there had never been any reason. Nomads came and went peacefully, usually, and their lives hadn't been so interrupted since... Well, since his beloved danger magnet had been with them. James and Victoria had created more of an uproar in their existence than they'd had for decades before.

The mere thought of the pair still enraged him to this day. Though he knew they were both ash, his fingers twitched around the steering wheel, wishing he could somehow visit more vengeance upon them. So much of his time with Bella had been wasted because of those two.

The car came to a stop, idling in front of the Ledyard Apartments. Edward frowned up at it, his mood still black, and he snatched up the folder that held Wil's copy of the music as promised. Tapping a button, he turned the car off and slipped out. Another couple were just letting themselves in, and he entered quietly behind them.

James. Victoria. This new threat. Any time he seemed to be getting things in order, either he destroyed it, or someone showed up to destroy it for him. He growled softly as he climbed the stairs and made his way to Willa's apartment. Would there never be any rest for him? Of course not, came the answer immediately. He was a vampire, cursed to walk the Earth endlessly, never resting. If only the movies had gotten one thing right, and during the day he could close his eyes and sleep, or cease to exist, for as long as the sun was in the sky... It might offer some relief.

He stopped briefly in front of Willa's apartment, setting the folder on the floor a little ways back from the entrance. Softly, he tapped on the door, and he was slightly surprised when he heard no movement from within. There was almost always someone in her shared apartment. Briefly, before he could even realize it, a brief fear flashed through him along with the image of the vampire Alice had seen.

No, it was too early for that. Alice would have seen him if he were on campus. She was probably just out on a date; that was what normal human students did in the evening rather than running around the state looking for imminent threats.

He pointedly ignored his response to the idea of Willa being out on a date. He was just jealous of the situation.

Spinning around faster than he ought to, he strode toward the stairs. Two scents floated up to him, and he heard the echo of a man's deeply troubled thoughts. He paused, leaning against the wall.

"Willa, there you are," he said softly as she made it to the top of the stairs. He meant to smile, but when she met his eyes, he said a reflection in them that matched the man's thoughts. Something was wrong; what was it? He tried to pick the information from her mind on instinct, and of course was met with nothing but the flavor of fear and concern. What had happened? He wanted to look at the man behind her but found himself captivated by the fresh grief in her eyes.

"Listen," she started, her voice biting, "if you're upset I haven't sent you the recording yet, I've been busy, all right? It's not a good night." She dug her keys from her purse and brushed past him; he automatically stepped aside, letting her pass with the illusion of pushing him out of the way. Now, he did glance at the man, hoping for some insight, but his thoughts were a whirl.

_Can't believe it... Where is she... Stupid, worthless campus cops... She wouldn't leave her purse... God, I can't believe it..._

Willa gasped, and Edward whipped back to see her falling. Automatically, he stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her toward him. He righted her on her feet, and her words repeated back to him in his mind, disturbing him.

"Please don't think I'm upset with you," he told her as she leaned her body back against his. There was obviously something wrong – someone missing – and though he didn't know who, he didn't want to add to her distress with such a needless concern. Briefly, he considered staying and offering his assistance, but he sternly reminded himself he was trying to stay away from her...not ingrain himself in her life further.

Willa looked back at him, then down at his arm around her waist. Oh. _Oh!_ He stepped back as though he had been burned. Looking for a distraction, both for himself and for her, he bent down and retrieved the folder he had left on the floor. He offered it to her, and she took it with a quiet, "Thanks."

"See you Friday," he muttered, turning and jogging down the stairs at a human pace. He needed to get moving, park the car on the edge of town and run a patrol. There were much more important things at hand than some human woman and her childish college concerns.

He told himself that, but in the back of his mind, he was dwelling on the fact that holding her in his arms – however briefly – had felt far better than it should have.


	18. Dress Rehearsal

Word of the young woman missing from the Dartmouth campus spread quickly. It was Kate that remembered no one had given Rhonda's parents a call, and she insisted on being the one to call despite the police offering to do it. Wil had closed herself in her room for the call, already overwhelmed by the ordeal of filing the report. Visiting the police station had been a necessary hell, drudging up memories better left buried. She lay in her bed awake long into the night, arms wrapped around her framed photo of Andrew as she relived the most difficult days of her life. She tried to steel herself for what was to come, and by the time she drifted off she was almost able to convince herself she was ready to face the coming storm – almost. When she woke the next morning to see cheery reporters with bright smiles telling the area about Rhonda, she realized how wrong she was.

The police had advised them to stay home from classes that Friday, in case they needed to be contacted and, one young man had said, to avoid the rumors and talk that would surround their roommate. Jeremy had offered to join – or form – a search party, but in a rural area the police assured him they were much better off coordinating their own efforts than accepting help from the public. Feeling restless, Jeremy had retrieved Rhonda's car after the police had given him the go ahead and was driving around town, visiting some of Rhonda's favorite places again and making sure they'd seen the news.

Kate and Eve took off for the day, claiming retail therapy was exactly what they needed. Though Wil had been invited, she didn't feel up to going out, though that left her pacing the apartment alone.

"I can't take this anymore," she grumbled, switching the TV off. She reconsidered, then turned it back on, flipping it to audio and pulling up her stored classical music. Mozart filled the room, and she took a deep breath, reaching for her tablet. She wasted the afternoon attempting to write an essay on music theory, cobbling together paragraphs she knew would need massive work later. It passed the time at least.

"Dinner's ready!" Kate called out as she and Eve came through the door carrying a pair of red canvas bags. The smell of Chinese food filled the apartment, and Wil's stomach growled in response as she saved her work and set the tablet down. They placed the bags on the coffee table and went back to take off their coats.

"Anything?" Eve asked, biting her lip. Wil shook her head. "I didn't think so, but I'd hoped maybe with all the attention it's getting, they might have some word."

Wil opened one of the bags, pulling out the little bags of forks and spoons. She tore into one, withdrawing a fork and grabbing a random container. "Thanks for the food," she said, opening the box and finding beef lo mien.

"Should we call?" Kate asked, getting her own food and sitting on the arm of the couch.

"They said they would call if there was any news," Eve told her as she got a can of soda from the fridge.

"I guess." Kate heaved a sigh, and the three of them ate in silence. None of them seemed to get much down before setting the food aside, the second bag completely untouched. "So when are you leaving, Wil?"

Wil frowned, glancing across the couch at her, then cursed. "Damnit, I forgot. I am so not in the mood tonight – I'd better start making some calls to let them know I won't be there." She rose, reaching up for her headset, and Eve caught her arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, shaking her head. "You've been working non-stop for this recital!"

"But Rhonda's-"

"Rhonda will ream you out when she finds out you skipped this because of her," Eve interrupted, still not letting go of Wil's wrist. "Don't expect me to stop her, either."

Heaving a sigh, Wil pulled her arm away. She knew Eve was right; where ever Rhonda was, what ever had happened to her, she would want Wil to go ahead with the recital. "Fine," she said after a moment. "Fine, yes, I'll go. I don't want to be on the receiving end of Rhonda's wrath." With a weak chuckle, she glanced at the clock. "I'd better change; even if we don't actually need to dress for it, I can't exactly show up in yoga pants."

It took nearly an hour for Wil to get the motivation to get dressed and ready to leave the apartment. Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, she touched up her make-up and ran a hand through her hair. She could still see the dark circles under her eyes, and her face looked drawn with worry, but it would have to do for at least an evening. She straightened the collar of the black and white blouse she wore and turned away from her reflection.

"Knock them dead!" Kate said as she stepped into the hall, pulling her into a hug. "If we hear anything – _anything!_ – we'll call and leave a message. Check as often as you can."

Wil returned the hug, and offered one to Eve too. "Call me when Jeremy gets in, all right? Just so I don't worry?" she asked, and Eve nodded, pressing her car's activator into Wil's hand.

"You make sure you bring this back to me," she said, and they both laughed weakly. An awkward silence settled on them, and Wil gave a wave, going down to the parking lot and letting herself into her roommates' car.

The Hop – Dartmouth's Hopkins Center – was fronted by huge windows that looked out onto the evening quietly. It stood off on its own, an odd looking building by any contemporary styles, with tall arches over glass fronts that lit beautifully on concert nights. Wil pulled around to the parking lot and made her way in the performer's entrance, bypassing the vaulted ceilings and pageantry of the foyer for the more familiar hallways and rehearsal rooms backstage. She peered through a small catwalk onto the Spaulding Auditorium stage, its wooden panels standing to either side of the worn red curtain, dim lights shining down. Their instruments and stage was set, the grand piano to one side and the others' instruments placed across the stage. Dead center stood a microphone stand and a tall stool.

"Down here, Ms. Monroe," a voice called, snapping her attention away from the stage. Dr. Reinholdt waved her into one of the rehearsal rooms, and with chagrin she realized she was the last to arrive. She moved over to stand with the group of performers and composers, trying to summon the energy to look properly embarrassed. She was sure she failed.

"Now that we're all here," Dr. Jackson stated, "We'll run through the timing for Sunday. Our recital is at 5pm, and I expect all of you to be here an hour early to warm up and prepare. Come in the way you did today and meet in this room; from there, we will split you among the rooms so you may each warm up as you see fit without interruption. At 5, composers will need to be ready to go on stage; Dr. Reinholdt and I will introduce each of you, at which point you may either take a seat in the audience, or return backstage if you are also performing.

"We will be performing in the same order as our first rehearsal; that order will be posted in each of the rehearsal rooms backstage for your reference. I will introduce the composer of the work, who is invited to come to the podium to introduce their piece. Feel free to speak a little about what inspired the piece and make it personal to the audience. When the composer comes onstage, that will be the performers' cue to enter as well. After the performance, composers, be certain to introduce and thank your musicians.

"Any questions?"

The group looked around at one another, a few shaking their heads, and Dr. Reinholdt clapped her hands. "Splendid!" she announced. "Take 15 minutes to warm up while we walk the composers through their part."

Dr. Jackson stayed behind while she led them out of the room. Wil filed along after the other composers, and they made their way across the hall and onto the stage. It had been nearly a year since she'd been on stage, and for a moment the magnitude of the auditorium took her breath away. There was a certain electricity of being on stage, even without a crowd, and she fed on it, trying to keep her focus in the moment.

"We have the front row of this section reserved for you," Dr. Reinholdt was saying, gesturing to the house left section that sat beside the stairs onto the stage. A podium sat in an alcove on that side of the stage. "You'll have easy access onto and off of the stage. We ask you remain at the podium; do not venture out onto the stage unless you are performing. Please keep your comments about the piece short and relevant. If you're unsure how to introduce your piece, we are both available to help you after this rehearsal."

She waved a hand, gesturing them to follow, and started to lead them backstage. "You're welcome backstage before the performance if you want, or you can just take your seats in the audience. Please remember, this is a free recital, so invite anyone you wish! We typically have a fairly full house for these recitals, and I expect no less this time." With a smile, she stopped and faced them, Dr. Jackson joining her. "We're very excited to have your works; we're both very impressed. Now, those of you who are performing I'm sure will appreciate time to warm up as well; the rest are welcome to take a seat and enjoy the show!"

There was a moment of chaos while the six composers went their separate directions. Wil paused a moment, glancing at Dr. Jackson, who pointed to the second rehearsal room down. She smiled and nodded her thanks, then joined Edward, who sat casually behind an upright piano. When she entered, he gave a crooked half smile.

"You look tense," he commented, earning a roll of Wil's eyes.

"You ready?" she asked with a hint of challenge. His smiled widened, and he gave a soft chuckle as his only answer. After a moment, Wil shook her head. "Fine. I need to warm up. You do whatever." Turning her back to him, she reached up and touched her headset. "Check messages," she said softly, and a polite voice informed her she had none. Sighing, she took it out of her ear and pocketed it.

"Waiting for a call?" Edward asked behind her. She ignored him, beginning to sing scales. Her hand remained on the headset in her pocket. Why hadn't anyone called? Shouldn't Jeremy be back by now?

He was a grown man, she chastised herself. He was probably out getting a much deserved drink. Wil wasn't much of a drinker, but she wished she was getting one herself.

Shaking her head, she spun back to Edward, who still sat behind the piano. His eyes were trained on her, back to the vibrant amber color they occasionally were. "Let's run through," she told him, and he nodded, beginning the introduction.

_I can almost feel you smiling_

_From beyond those silver – "_Oh!"

The headpiece in her pocket was vibrating. She snatched it, tucking it into her ear just as it quieted. She prompted it for messages, and after a moment's delay Kate's voice spoke in her ear.

"Jeremy's back. See you in a while."

Wil took a deep breath, relieved as she put the headpiece back into her pocket. "Sorry," she said quietly. "Let's go again."

Edward began the introduction again, indulging her. Jeremy was back – no word on Rhonda though. That meant she was still missing. How long were people missing before the chance of finding them dropped? Was it already too late? When she was done, she would call the police station herself to get an update.

When Edward cleared his throat, Wil realized he'd stopped playing.

"Were you planning to join me at some point?" he asked, his voice bland. She cursed, running a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, sorry. It's just – bad night," she told him with a shake of her head.

"I've heard that before." Edward nodded toward the door. "We should just do this out there. An audience will focus you."

Wil strode away from him and collapsed into one of the chairs. A bad dress rehearsal made a good performance, she told herself. She could only hope that held true. Wishing her headpiece out of her pocket, she cupped in between her hands and stared at it, willing it to vibrate. After a few minutes of that, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She drew the air in for a slow count of 5, then back out for the same count through parted lips. The breathing exercise was one of the first things she'd learned as a singer, taking the air deep into her diaphragm, and the routine of it centered her.

Or it did until she felt the weight of the headpiece in her hands again. Worry twisted her gut, and she let the air out in a whoosh and leaning back. She let her head fall backward and lean against the wall.

Typically, Edward would have found something to tease her about by this point. Any time she'd taken a break in their rehearsals, he had either mocked her about her lack of attention span or asked her if she wanted him to leave, a barb in his voice almost challenging her to do so. Today, though, he softly began to play on the piano. It took her a moment to recognize Voraldi's work, but it was a rich and subtle piece that she'd listened to many times. She let the music wash over her and tried to lose herself in it while they waited.

Three times, she tucked the headpiece into her ear and checked for messages. Three times, she was disappointed, and after the third she slipped it back into her pocket with a resigned acceptance to the fact there would be no call.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and it opened without waiting. One of the other musicians stuck his head through and cleared his throat.

"You'll be up next," he said in a graveled voice. She glanced between the two of them, Edward at the piano still playing softly, Wil pulling herself from the wall and blinking as she finally opened her eyes. She smiled at him, nodding, and he shut the door behind him.

"Ready?" Edward asked as he stood up, closing the lid over the keys of the piano. Wil considered a moment before giving him an honest answer.

"No, but I suppose I have to be."


	19. So Complicated

"Ms. Monroe, may we have a word?" The professor's words startled Wil, who jumped slightly as she zipped her coat. Edward saw the disappointment and concern in the man's mind as he watched her turn to him, taking in her shaking hands and drawn expression. Glancing at her himself, he picked up the details the professor had missed – her elevated heart rate, the subtle red rims around her eyes – and felt a stab of sympathy for the woman that he tried to hide by turning away and reaching for his jacket.

"Yes, of course Dr. Jackson," Wil said calmly, her voice betraying the faintest quiver. He heard her reach into her pocket and assumed she was replacing her headpiece once again. Whatever call she was waiting for, it had her thoroughly distracted. He was waiting for a similar call, but he left the headpiece in his pocket. Both of the professors slipped into the rehearsal room, closing the door behind them.

"If I may ask – what happened out there?" Dr. Jackson asked, looking the young woman over again. He was concerned after her dreadful performance, more for her than for the recital itself, though Dr. Reinholdt was more focused on the success of the coming display. Her thoughts were nearly spiteful toward the young composer who might ruin their evening. Edward sighed softly enough that none of the humans would hear him, sliding on his gloves and leaning against the wall by the door. In truth, he was curious as well.

Wil sighed. "I lost my focus, I'm sorry," she told them. "I'll have myself together for Sunday, I promise." She said it firmly, and her hands clenched into fists by her side, as though she was trying to convince herself.

"Willa, we have placed a lot of faith in you and your fellow performers," Dr. Reinholdt said in a tone far more gentle than her thoughts. "If there is something going on outside of the recital that prevents you from performing, we understand and can modify the program."

"No!" Wil nearly shouted, taking a step forward. When she caught herself, she said in a calmer voice, "No, Dr. Reinholdt, Dr. Jackson. I will be fine on Sunday." The professors studied her for a moment before Dr. Jackson nodded, giving her a grandfatherly smile.

Clapping her on the shoulder, he said, "If something changes, let us know. Good night." The two of them shared a glance before letting themselves out. With a gust of breath, Wil sat in the nearest chair, placing her face in her hands. Not for the first time that evening, Edward tried to read her thoughts, and could barely make out a hum of fear and a stream of thought he could not make out. Predictably, once the door was shut, Wil lifted a hand to her ear and mumbled, "Check messages."

A look of disgust crossed her face as Edward heard the phone tell her there were none.

Sitting and dwelling would do her no good, and Edward needed to get going. Stepping away from the wall, he went to her and cleared his throat softly.

"Come on," he said with a nod toward the door. When she didn't rise, he offered her a hand, and she took it hesitantly. Once she was on her feet, she grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder. Holding the door for her, Edward watched her go, then followed her out of the building.

"You didn't need to wait for me," she told him. "Your performance was perfect – as always."

"I know," he smirked. The expression didn't last long, however, when he thought of his reasons for waiting. Just that morning, Alice had seen their visitor on the Dartmouth campus after days of being unable to see anything at all. They weren't sure when he had arrived, but she was certain he was already here…somewhere. "I don't like the thought of a young woman out here alone right now. It's not safe." He frowned, listening carefully for anything that was amiss, but there was only silence as they made their way through the parking lot. Everyone else had left; both professors had been pulling out of the lot as they got out of the building, and it had locked behind Edward when the door closed. There were a few other students some distance away, but no one was nearby. Still, he was tense, ready for a fight if it arose.

"So I've heard," Wil muttered, looking down. There were two cars left in the lot, his BMW and a car he had seen parked in the lot beside Wil's apartment building countless times. The lights flashed as they neared, confirming it was hers.

"See you Sunday, then." She stopped at the car door, setting her free hand on the handle. Edward nodded.

"Sunday," he agreed, turning to walk away. He didn't like turning his back to her; he didn't like her leaving his sight at all. The realizing disturbed him, though he should have been used to the duality of his thoughts by now. All the time they had spent together had endeared her to him – in a way. Familiarity, he supposed. That was all it could be.

Over his shoulder, he said quietly, "Be safe."

He strode quickly to her car, sliding in and turning it on smoothly. The engine hummed quietly, though he didn't pull out yet. Instead, he sat watching Wil as she got into her own car and turned it on. She pulled off her gloves, rubbing her hands together in front of the air vents for a moment, then leaned back in the seat.

The emotions that crossed her face enthralled him. She couldn't know that he was watching her; no human would be able to see her through the windshield. In her solitude, she seems to unravel. Grief, fear, confusion, and a deep set pain all washed over her as her public façade fell away, leaving her to her own thoughts. He knew he should turn away, let her be alone in such a private moment, but the glimpse into her mind was priceless to him. It reminded him so much of his own solitude, and he recognized many of her expressions from his sibling's minds in memories of him.

When her tears began to fall, Edward finally pulled his eyes away from her, staring instead at the hood of her car. Each one seemed to pierce him, and the urge to rush to her was nearly overwhelming. He wanted to wipe her tears from her cheeks and try to take the pain from her, add it to his own somehow so she would not need to shoulder such a burden.

"No," he whispered fiercely, taking his hands off of the steering wheel so that, when they flexed, they would not crush it. He remembered the last time he'd felt so strongly, the sound of the breaks squealing to try to stop the van, skidding of rubber on ice.

What had he _done?_

This was wrong. This was terribly, terribly wrong. _Move on,_ Bella had told him, and he knew it was completely impossible, and yet here he was. No wonder Jasper had been avoiding him, blocking his thoughts from him so studiously. He must have seen it, felt it, long before now. A flash of anger lit through Edward; he should have warned him, should have said something.

No, nothing was happening. It was fine, it was fine. In a few days, he would be done with the recital, done with Willa Monroe and everything she represented. He had loosened up over their time together, and that had been his undoing; he would make it clear to her at the recital that he wanted nothing more to do with her, and then it would be over.

_Stubborn vampire,_ Bella's voice taunted him. For the first time in a decade, he ignored her.

Wil's car began to move, and he watched it without another glance at her through the windshield. Slowly she backed out, then made her way out of the lot. He followed her to the street, then turned the opposite direction as she did, refusing to glance in the rearview mirror no matter how strong the urge was.

A tone chirped in his ear, followed by Alice's voice. "Behind Molly's," she said, her voice oddly flat. "Soon. Now. I just saw it."

Reaching over, he pulled up the nav system and tapped the preset for Molly's. Alice had loaded his nav with a number of different locations around town, though he'd never used any of them – until now. The car's cruise control took over. As he settled back in the seat, the phone rang.

"Edward," Alice said as soon as he picked it up, not giving him a chance to speak. "You don't have time to drive. Someone's going to see him, Edward, and if we show up too late it will get…complicated."

"Complicated?" he asked as his mind started to put the pieces together.

"National news complicated," she told him. "Photos. They won't make it to press, but they won't need to."

Edward sighed. No, they wouldn't need to get published to get attention. There were enough spies in enough places to make them go away, and to make sure everyone involved went away with them. He tapped the nav off and took control of the car again. "Who else is coming?"

"Em will get there first, and you won't be far behind. Rose will be there too, but she's going to run interference in the restaurant." Pulling into a gas station, he drove around the side and parked in the shadows, turning the car off. "I can't tell how he'll react; there may be a fight."

"Fine," Edward acknowledged as he got out of the car. "Thanks, Alice."

The car locked behind him as he touched his headpiece, ending the connection. He circled the car for a moment, for all appearances checking his tires, and when he knew no one was looking slipped behind the building and took off running.

Crossing town on foot was far more difficult than it was in most of the places they settled. Often, like Forks, they preferred areas with a great deal of forest and wilderness mingled in with a small town. The cover allowed them more freedom, but the urban set up was necessary for college. There were very few universities left without dense population around them, and even fewer in appropriate climates. Edward had to dart from alley to alley, changing direction frequently and stopping from time to time to avoid notice. It took most of his concentration to stay aware of all the minds nearby and take the best route around them.

By the time he got to Molly's, he was almost relieved to drop into the alley behind it and let his awareness collapse back down. It was impossible for him to get tired, but there was a mental drain to keeping so many minds in his own for so long.

"Dude, you missed it!" Emmett announced as Edward landed beside him. His brother clapped him on the back strongly. "That kid is slippery, Eddie. I almost had him pinned."

Edward glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "Almost?"

A sheepish look came over Emmett's face, and he gave a self-conscious shrug. "Yeah. I was just…distracted, thinking of Rosie in there with all those guys."

"Right," Edward agreed, trying to let his brother save face. "What happened?"

"He came out of Molly's just as we got here with some pretty piece of-"

"Emmett!" Rosalie chastised, striding up to them as a quick human pace and smacking the back of her husband's head. "God, have a little respect."

"Yes, babe," Emmett said, head hanging. "Anyway, Rosie put some moves on him, and he ditched the other woman real quick. I mean, who wouldn't, right? The chick took off in a huff and Rosie brought him back here…" He trailed off with an excited grin, and Edward could see the fight in his mind. The newcomer was quick, and seemed to somehow stay a step ahead of Emmett, though his brother was right – he did almost have him.

One thing bothered Edward, though. Alice had said he would be late if he drove, and that he would be just in time if he ran. What had changed?

A low growl echoed through the alley just as he had that thought, and the three of them froze, spinning toward the sound. At the far end of the alley, a silhouette crouched. For a moment, Edward listened, but he heard only a din of confused thought and bloodlust, easily ignored if he hadn't been looking for it.

Here was the newborn.

The nomad had chosen a beautiful young woman, a redhead that vaguely reminded Edward of Victoria so many years ago. Of course, her eyes were too red, the vibrant crimson of the newly changed, and her face was too angular, but the similarities were there. She wore a tore white tank top and a black leather miniskirt that had seen better days, patches stained a dull burgundy from blood spilled. As the three of them studied her, she snarled at them, and a single thought crossed her mind: _Mine!_

She rushed them with vicious speed, going straight for Emmett. She was possessive of the nomad they had chased off, and she had seen the fight; the same echoes of it were in her mind as Emmett's, from a slightly skewed perspective. When she lunged for Emmett, Rosalie growled, jumping and intercepting her.

"Get you bitch hands off of him!" she spat, throwing the newborn down the alley. The woman landed with a thunderous crash and rolled into a green garbage bin, leaving an impression. She rebounded quickly, though, and the three siblings descended on her.

It was a poorly matched fight. For all the speed and strength a newborn has, there was no way to beat three well practiced vampires, especially when they worked as a team. Edward whispered the newborn's moves right before she made them, and each blow that they blocked and stepped out of infuriated her further. Rosalie grabbed her arm at one point and spun her around, launching her toward Emmett, who caught her easily and pinned her in his massive arms. She fought, spat, kicked, and scratched at him, but he did not budge until she'd managed to place a swift kick back into his groin. He howled, releasing her to clutch at himself, but Edward was there to keep her from darting off. With a lunge, he landed on top of her, slamming her into the pavement.

"Rose!" he said with urgency as he held her down. He winced as she landed a kick to his leg, but managed to hold her as his sister sped over and grasped the woman's head.

It was over quickly, and the three of them stood and watched as the fire they'd lit in the garbage bin began to burn in earnest. The telltale purple plume of smoke wafted from the bin, and the three of them dipped their heads for a moment of respects. None of them liked what had to be done, but there was no denying the necessity.

Voices spoke in Edward's mind, a whisper of curiosity and concern.

"They're coming out to investigate," he told the others, and they both nodded.

"We can slip in the back," Rosalie suggested with a glance toward Molly's back door. "A lot of people saw me in there earlier, so it won't raise suspicion."

Emmett slipped an arm around his wife as Edward tried the door, which was conveniently unlocked. He heard no one behind it, so they slipped inside, and the door settled closed just as the first people started around the corner to investigate the noises they'd heard.

At least the newborn was dealt with, Edward decided as he made his way down the hallway. He ducked into the men's room when he passed it, going to a sink and splashing water on his face. There were smears of dirt on his cheeks that he rinsed away, then scrubbed his hands and dried them under an ancient electric blower.

The newborn was dealt with, but not the nomad. They would have to step everything up now, to find him and stop him before he decided to replace the companion he'd lost. Hopefully, tonight had done away with the gruesome visions of Alice's, though. If they were lucky, they could now deal with the situation quietly.

Why did things have to be so complicated?

Edward sighed and left the men's room, the door shutting firmly behind him.


	20. Always a Rush

Saturday dragged on. Jeremy and the women woke early from restless sleeps and agreed to spend the day at the theater. They watched the latest comedies, an action thriller, and some sci fi movie that Wil dozed through with her hand wrapped tightly after her headset, set to vibrate. Two calls to the police station had proven useless; no word, they said, but they assured Jeremy they would know immediately. Rhonda's parents called to let them know they'd arrived in town and where they were staying, but having never met, no one felt the need to get together.

Jeremy decided to spend that night at home, a gesture that fell on Wil's shoulders like a ton of bricks. He seemed to feel the same way about it, and they hugged before he left, their eyes sharing a silent realization that he had given up on her returning.

Wil lay in bed for a long time that night staring at the ceiling, and the next morning, she printed out a photo of Rhonda from that fall and set it in a frame beside the picture of Andrew in her room.

By noon Sunday, Rhonda had made national news as a missing persons case, and Wil had began to focus on the evening's recital. The third time Wil emerged from her bedroom to pace, Kate had turned off the TV, rose from her spot on the couch, and beckoned Eve over to them. "Time to make you beautiful," she announced solemnly, and Wil cracked a smile.

"That'll take some work," she said. Kate winked at her.

"I've always loved a challenge." She ushered Wil into the bathroom with strict instructions to take a long shower and to "let everything but the recital go down the drain." As she stood with her back to the hot water, letting it beat against the knots in her shoulders and back, she closed her eyes and went through a breathing exercise in an attempt to focus herself. Someone banged on the door around the time the water began to cool, and Wil shut it off, reaching out for a towel and wrapping it around her body.

Kate let herself in, grabbing the hair dryer and a round brush off the counter. "Come on," she said, grasping Wil's arm and pulling her out of the bathroom. The wooden chair that sat at the desk in Kate's room had been placed in the middle of the living room, and Wil was pushed into it. Once she had settled, the other two set to work. Kate brushed her hair out and styled it while Eve did her nails, then started on her make up. Eventually, they let her change out of the towel and into her black evening dress, Kate reserving the right to adjust its strappy back until it was just right. The sleeveless dress fell to her ankles, outlining her curves without clinging too tightly, and had a dipping V-neck that showed off the diamond teardrop pendant Eve was loaning her.

Her hair fell in soft waves, framing her face, and Wil had to admit that the women had done a great job.

"Thank you," she said as she studied her reflection in the mirror, then turned to smile at them. Both grinned back, then froze as a knock came at the door. They stared at each other for a moment, then scrambled for the door. Eve reached it first, pulling the door open.

All three let out their breath when they saw it wasn't the police.

"Willa! You're gorgeous!" Wil's mother pushed past the other women and pulled her into a careful hug, trying not to muss her outfit. Patricia Monroe was a whirlwind of activity, there was no other way to state it. Her short hair was always curled and – this week – was dyed dark brown with a hint of burgundy and cream highlights. She insisted on wearing glasses instead of getting corrective surgery, and tortoise-shell ovals frames her brown eyes as they stared up at Wil. The women stood a full 2 inches shorter than her daughter, but she made up for the height difference with her large presence.

Behind her came Andrew's parents, one of his sisters – Donna – and much to her surprise, Uncle Chuck. "Your father had to work today," Patricia said, "and Diann stayed home with Chad, but the rest of us wanted to be here! My uncle's been spending some time with us now that he's retired, so he decided to come along…"

Wil smiled at the group, nodding a hello. "Thank you; you didn't have to come!"

"And these must be your roommates?" Patricia asked, and Kate offered a hand to shake.

"I'm Kate, and this is Eve," she said. "If you'll excuse us though, we need to get changed." Taking the opportunity to escape, they disappeared into their room, closing the door quietly behind them.

Patricia glanced after them, then poked her head around the corner and looked the apartment over. "This is a great place," she announced, going through to the kitchen. Joan followed behind her.

"Enough room for four easily," Joan commented. "Where was your other roommate, is she going to make it?"

"Oh, um," Wil stuttered. "She can't be there," she finally decided on. She reached for her coat, pulling it on carefully. "I was about to head over, we need to be there ahead of time for rehearsal-"

"You can ride with me then!" Patricia said, sweeping back over to Wil and wrapping an arm around her daughter's. "You can point out the landmarks as we go, how about that?" She started to pull Wil out of the apartment, barely allowing her daughter time to catch her purse on the way by. Casting a look over her shoulder, Wil saw Michael's apologetic smile and he followed behind.

"You don't mind the surprise, do you?" he asked.

"No, of course not!" Wil assured them all. "It's so nice of you to come out here just for me."

As the group swept her along, she decided this was probably the best thing that could have happened for the recital. All thoughts of Rhonda were buried under the attention of two doting mothers and her other family.

When Wil got to the Hop, she had to say goodbye to her mother and Andrew's one time too many as far as her nerves were concerned. Once the concert hall had come into view, her typical performance jitters had set in, and she began to question everything from her outfit to the time she was supposed to arrive. Disengaging from Patricia's last hug, she hurried down the side of the building to the performer's entrance just shy of a jog, holding her dress up with one hand.

"I told you, I don't _know!_" a voice whispered, and Wil slowed. Edward stood to the side of the entrance with a woman she knew, though it took a moment to place the name. She bit her lip. She'd seen her at karaoke first, then she'd given her a ride that night she'd ditched the girls in town… Anna? Alicia?

"That doesn't help, Alice," Edward sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just – go find a seat. If you figure it out, let me know." Alice rose onto her toes and kissed Edward on the cheek.

"I can't wait to hear you play again, finally. I'm going to love it!" she said. She spun on heel, giving Wil a small wave as she passed her. "Have fun!"

Wil watched her pass, then pulled open the door and started inside. Edward fell into step behind her, wearing a long charcoal overcoat. "Friend of yours?" she asked.

"Sister," he told her darkly. "Crazy little sister."

With a shake of her head, Wil turned a corner, and they found the rehearsal room with her name on it. "Don't let her shake you, everything's going to be fine tonight." They went inside, taking off their coats and laying them on a pair of chairs. Edward wore a stunning black suit, custom fit it looked like, with a charcoal tie that matched his coat. She realized she was staring about the same time she realized _he_ was staring, and she felt a blush begin in her neck and work its way up into her cheeks. He gave a small, crooked grin and gestured to the door.

"Shall we?"

They met as instructed in one of the other rehearsal rooms, getting a quick run down of the evening again from Dr. Reinholdt, who informed them that her counterpart was out in the lobby mingling. When they were released to go warm up, Edward and Wil retreated to their room. Without a word, Edward sat on the piano bench, striking a single note. Wil matched it, and they ran a few scales together, falling into an easy unison.

As Wil began to reach the top end of her range, her voice wavering on the highest notes, Edward switched to play the opening to her song. With a nod, she followed his lead, beginning to sing.

_I can almost feel you smiling_

_From beyond those silver skies_

_Brushing my hair off my…_

"Shit." Wil cursed, stopping short, as she realized she'd skipped to the second verse. Edward's playing faltered, and she waved him on, encouraging him to continue while she joined back in.

_No one knows but you_

_How I feel inside_

_No one knows but…_

"Damnit," she growled, spinning on heel and striding to the chairs. She sunk into one, placing her head in her hands carefully so she didn't ruin either her hair or makeup. "This is going to be a disaster."

Edward stopped playing, hesitating for a moment on the piano bench before standing and going to her side. He placed a cool hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles.

"It will only be a disaster if you let it," he told her. "In high school, I was playing for the school production of _Sweeney Todd _– not exactly my idea, I lost a bet – well, the director thought it would be a great idea to have the pit orchestra dressed and made up to match the production. Something about keeping us focused on the era. I thought it was ridiculous. I was facing the rest of the musicians, and the girl on second violin had decided to wind a plastic cleaver into her hair for 'dramatic effect.'" Edward huffed. "It was dramatic all right. During the first piece, the thing worked its way out and fell onto her instrument, and she dropped both the violin and the cleaver onto the floor behind her."

Wil peeked up at him around her hands, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Sounds like a mess."

"That was the thing, the audience never knew," he told her. "Half of the pit was laughing, of course, but the timing hit right with a joke in the song, and we had recovered enough by the time the audience calmed that even the director in the house had no idea. To add insult to injury, though, during the next performance my brother slipped my phone into my pocket before I went backstage. It vibrated in my pocket non-stop through the first half, driving me absolutely crazy. Finally, I snuck a look at it during a break, and I had about 30 text messages, each one of them saying, 'Cleave her, Eddy! She's hot!'"

She tried to hold her laughter in, but it was a losing battle. It started with a giggle, then as the stress of the night and the ridiculousness of his story caught her, she doubled over with laughter. Edward watched her, an amused smile on his face and his hand still on her back. "So – was she hot?"

His face contorted. "Have you seen _Sweeney Todd_? Her hair was a rat's nest, her dress was covered in dirt, and she was trying to show off cleavage despite the fact that she had none. Let's just say she was no Willa Monroe." He winked at her – did she seriously just see that? – and she laughed again, sitting up.

"I am pretty fabulous," she told him, and she shook her head. "High school musicals? You hardly seem the type."

"I assure you, I am not," he said, standing and offering her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet. "I am more of an Opera aficionado - that and old sitcoms from the turn of the century. Don't tell anyone, but I am a bit of a _Friends_ fan, not that I expect you know it. An old flame got me stuck on it."

Wil quirked an eyebrow at him in utter disbelief. "You're kidding me. I watched that show all the time with my mom growing up." With a sly grin, she began to sing, "Smelly cat, smelly cat, what are they feeding you?"

"Smelly cat, smelly cat, it's not your fault!" Edward joined her, and the two of them laughed together as someone knocked on the door. A stage hand poked her head in the door.

"We're about to start," she informed them in a clipped tone, the odd look on her face telling them both she had heard their impromptu performance. This left Wil laughing even harder as she closed the door, muttering something under her breath. After a moment, she took a deep breath, gathering herself. She withdrew her headset, placing it atop the piano, and starting toward the door. Edward caught her elbow.

"No disasters, right?" he asked, and Wil nodded.

"No disasters. I've got this covered. Thank you."

The composers gathered in the wings, and Drs Jackson and Reinholdt smiled at them as the house lights went down. Dim lighting cast a glow on the stage, and the two professors stepped out into a spotlight, making their way to the podium.

With them on stage, Wil could see clearly past them to the crowd. There was enough light on stage to tell the auditorium was quite nearly packed, and she lost herself in the crowd for a moment. She barely registered the introductions given, following along as they joined the professors on stage, waving when she was announced. A whistle pierced the air for her introduction, and she gave an embarrassed smile, reminding herself to speak with Donna later.

When they were dismissed, Wil slipped offstage and, instead of going to her rehearsal room, lingered in the wings, watching the other performances. They seemed to get increasingly better as the recital went on, and Wil wondered what had possessed the professors to slot her last.

"You know," Edward said with a smirk, "If you keep pacing, you might wear the heels off those shoes."

Wil spun to face him, a shocked look on her face, then gave a weak laugh. "I suppose you're right," she admitted, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress.

Applause rolled into the wings, and Wil turned back to see the others walking off stage. Edward whispered a quick "you'll be great" before walking away; he would need to circle around the stage to enter from the side the piano was on. Wil took a deep breath and listened as Dr. Jackson took the podium again.

"Our final presentation tonight features the work of a junior classman who shows much promise. It is our pleasure to have her in the department, and I'm sure we can expect to see her return to this recital next year as well. Please welcome Willa Monroe."

The audience gave polite applause as Wil stepped out onto the stage, shaking Dr. Jackson's hand before he went down the stairs, taking his seat. She settled herself behind the microphone and smiled out at the crowd.

"Thank you, sir," she began, nodding down toward him. "Music has always been a means of expression and an outlet for things that sometimes can go unsaid. My piece, _No One Knows But You_, speaks to some of those hidden emotions. In our class, we are challenged to explore many different instruments and styles of music; while it's been an incredible experience and I've found much to love, some things beg for simplicity, and this song was one of them."

Glancing back at Edward, who sat at the piano and stared at the keys with an odd expression on his face. Looking back at the crowd, she said, "This song is for Andrew, and for Bella"

Wil left the podium and went to center stage. The microphone stand was only a few feet from the front end of the piano, and she slid the stool out of the way, preferring to stand. Around them, the lighting remained dim, a single spot highlighting Wil. She looked at Edward, nodding once, and he began to play.

Performing was always a rush. Here on this stage, practically alone, pouring her heart out through her song, Wil felt both overwhelmed and awed. The audience seemed to fade from her awareness until it was just her and the piano. In her mind, she sang for Andrew, and her eyes prickled with tears that threatened to spill. To stave them off, she closed her eyes for a moment as she sang the chorus through.

_Cause no one knows but you_

_How I feel inside_

_No one knows … but you._

As the last words faded, she opened her eyes, looking out to the audience as Edward brought the song to a close. Silence followed the final chord, and Wil's heart skipped a beat before the applause started. She burst into a smile, blinking back the last of her unshed tears, and waited for a moment for the applause to quiet down. Someone, probably Kate, called out a "yeah, Wil!" that was mostly drowned out by the crowd.

Turning sideways, Wil gestured back toward the piano, and the spotlight followed. "My pianist, Edward Cullen," she said simply, and with a smile he lifted a hand in a wave.

Suddenly, his expression shifted, gaining a stricken look. A moment later, a voice rose above the quieting applause.

"Oh my God! Someone get an ambulance!"

The applause ended abruptly, in its place the rumblings of a crowd all speaking at once. Wil looked down at where the professors were, completely shocked and unsure what to do. Both of them were already on their feet. Dr. Jackson waved her over and met her at the podium, while Dr. Reinholdt hovered uncertainly at the bottom of the stairs up to the stage.

A door opened at the back of the auditorium and someone rushed in, looking around for a moment. Someone must have pointed him in the right direction, because Wil watched him sprint across the back of the house and make his way about halfway down the aisle before disappearing into the crowd. Half of the audience had risen to their feet, seeking out the disruption.

"Wait here with me," Dr. Jackson said quietly, a hand covering the microphone. The other composers and a handful of the musicians had joined them, and they stood in a small cluster. Dr. Reinholdt was nowhere to be seen, probably disappeared to coordinate with the building's security. Taking his hand from the mic, Dr. Jackson cleared his throat.

"If everyone would please remain calm and seated, we will be better able to assess the situation," he told the crowd, his voice echoing over the chaos. "We have-"

"Wil!" Donna shouted, breaking through the crowd in the aisle and rushing to the stage. "It's your uncle, he collapsed!"

Wil whipped around to face her, eyes wide, then glanced at Dr. Jackson. He looked equally shocked. "I – what? What happened?" She stepped around the front of the podium and hurried down the stairs, looking out over the crowd and trying to pinpoint her family.

"I don't know," Donna admitted. She grabbed Wil's hand and pulled her into the crowd. Some people stepped aside when they saw the pair coming, but it was still cramped, and they had to weave their way through slowly. "He stood up to applaud with us, but then he just collapsed."

They broke through the line of the crowd. Joan and Michael hovered in the aisle uncertainly, his arm around her waist, and Wil's mother sat down the row of seats next to a man in a suit speaking quietly. A second man was kneeling on the floor, checking her great-uncle's vitals. Uncle Chuck looked ashen, his features drawn, but as she studied him she could make out a faint shift in his clothes as his chest rose and fell.

No disasters? God, what a disaster this whole week was.

"They say they've called for an ambulance; it should be here shortly to take him to the University hospital," Donna said softly, squeezing Wil's hand. Wil nodded, unable to look away.


	21. Familiar Pain

Listening to Wil sing, Edward knew he had made the right choice to attend the recital despite his sister's odd vision the day before. She had the voice of an angel, truly, and that she had thought to dedicate the performance to his Bella as well as Andrew had touched him deeply. He had come this evening with the intention of all but ignoring her; when she had struggled, had nearly started to cry, his resolve crumbled like dust in the wind.

The scent of her tears reached him as she drew toward the close of the song. Like before, he felt the need to find some way to comfort her, though there was no opportunity. He was thankful for that; it was going to be difficult enough for him to disappear from her life as it was.

He had bottled up any feeling he thought he might have for her, reminding himself sternly he had no right to feel such things. Bella was his _mate_. A mate was, literally, forever, and that he even thought of Willa was a betrayal of the worst kind – not to mention, of course, the disastrous fallout that giving in to such feelings could be.

He was a century-old vampire who could control his bloodlust enough to practice medicine. He could control himself in this as well.

The song came to a close, and he let the last of those thoughts float away with the final notes. The audience applauded, and Wil stepped to the microphone to introduce him. Lifting a hand, he waved politely to the crowd as the spotlight centered on him.

_What the hell! It can't be!_

The thought came from the crowd as though shouted, and suddenly there was a wave of panic. Focusing quickly, he tried to see through one of the panicked minds what had happened, and he was rewarded with the sight of an elderly man laying unconscious, face down under a row of seats.

"Oh my God! Someone get an ambulance!"

That began the pandemonium. Wil rushed to the side of the stage, seeking the professors' guidance, and Edward slipped out from behind the piano and off stage. He strode past stage hands crowding over to peer out to the audience; they stepped aside when they saw the look on his face, grim and determined.

Alice's vision crowded his mind - Edward standing outside a hospital room, his hand on the door as he hesitated to enter. Now, a man collapsed basically right in front of him.

And that strange, out of place thought…

_Edward._

Alice and Jasper rushed down the hall to him; he didn't wonder how they had gotten themselves admitted backstage. Surely everyone was distracted right now. Jasper was clearly concerned as he followed his wife, his eyes not leaving her for a moment, a hand ghosting the small of her back as they made their way to him.

"Is this why, Alice?" Edward asked her as they came to a stop, and after a brief moment, she nodded.

"I think so," she told him. "A man collapsed-"

"Yes, I know." He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "What I don't know is what that has to do with me."

"Well…" She hesitated, her eyes darting away from him. _How will he take it? _she wondered, earning an annoyed sigh.

"He's here with Willa's family," Jasper filled in. Many things flashed through Edward: shock, concern, grief, worry. He fought them all down quickly, finding a way to be apathetic despite the part of him that wanted to rush to her.

"And what does that have to do with me?" he managed to make himself say, his voice flat. Alice gasped, looking back at Edward. Her eyes were filled with disappointment.

"Well, she is-"

"-No one of importance after the recital," he filled in for her. "And the recital is over."

There was a firmness to his voice that even he was surprised at. Of course, he was certain that was the right answer, the right way to dealing with things. Turning away from his siblings, he started around the stage, making his way to the rehearsal room. He heard Alice and Jasper following behind him and blatantly ignored them.

When he pushed the door open, he could tell others had come and gone from the room by the fresh, mingled scents. He glanced over and saw that Wil's coat had been removed; someone had probably run to fetch it for her when they discovered who had needed the ambulance. He crossed the room, picking up his own coat and pulling it on.

"Mr. Cullen," a voice spoke behind him. He and Jasper both turned, and they saw Dr. Jackson standing in the door. "You're leaving?"

Edward nodded, beginning to button his coat. "Yes, sir. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"No," the elderly man said. "Congratulations on a strong performance, you and Willa did very well. We had planned to take everyone out for drinks after the performance, but considering how the night ended, we've decided to do so tomorrow instead. Everyone is invited to join us tomorrow at 6 – we figure the Applebees in Hanover is a central location we all know."

"Thank you, sir," Edward said.

"No, thank you for all your hard work." He stepped forward, offering a hand; they shook briefly, Edward breaking the handshake quickly. Dr. Jackson seemed to focus on something behind Edward briefly. "Oh! Is this yours?" Stepping past Edward, he picked up a headpiece from the piano and held it out.

Edward reached into his pocket and retrieved his own. "It must be Willa's," he said, setting the headpiece back into his pocket.

"Would you be so kind as to give it to her?" Dr. Jackson asked. "I assume you're headed to the hospital to check on her and her family. Please pass on my congratulations and condolences both, as well as the information for tomorrow." The professor pressed the headpieces into Edward's hand and turned away without waiting for a response, leaving him slightly flat-footed. When the professor had left, Edward glanced at Alice and Jasper, his lips slightly parted.

How had that just happened?

There was a smirk on Alice's lips. "Never bet against me," his sister reminded him. "Looks like we're going to the hospital. Rose and Em said they'd meet us at home whenever we got there."

Wil's headpiece still in his hand, Edward allowed his pixie of a sister to drag him along behind her. They made their way out of the Hop and into the couple's car in silence, not speaking until their car pulled into the hospital's parking lot. Edward sulked the entire way, cradling Willa's headpiece in his hands as thought it might burn him.

How had he been roped into visiting her at the hospital? He should have said no when Dr. Jackson asked him to take it to her instead of accepting the headpiece. He had to admit that there was no way the professor could have foisted the little piece of electronics on him if he hadn't wanted to take it. He was decided, though – he had chosen to not see Willa again, and yet, here he was.

She would want to be alone with her family anyway, wouldn't she?

"I still don't know why I would be visiting the room," Edward protested weakly.

"I don't know either," Alice admitted. "But I still see it." She closed her eyes briefly as Jasper parked the car, and they both watched the vision play out again in her mind. "Jazz – any reason you can think of to check on him?"

"No, can't say there is," he said with a shake of his head, shutting the car off. "Would you like me to come in?" Jasper glanced back over his shoulder, an appraising eye on his brother in the back seat. _You don't seem to be holding together so well there, brother._

"Of course you will," Alice said before Edward could respond. "We're the cheerleading squad!"

"Excuse me?" Jasper asked, quirking an eyebrow at his wife. "I don't do pom-poms."

"But you look so _darling_ in a skirt, sweetie," Alice told him. She leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

"Don't remind me," Jasper grumbled as he pushed open the car door. They all exited, the car's lights flashing twice as the locks engaged.

"Neither of you have to come in," Edward told them, picking up his pace to get in front of them. "I'm just going to give her the headpiece and leave."

"Sure you are," Alice said under her breath. Edward glared at her.

The hospital smelled richly of blood, sweat, and the sharp tang of anesthetic. The three of them took a moment as they entered the door; Edward breathed deeply while the others took quick, shallow breaths to acclimatize themselves to the scent. Edward raised a hand to a passing nurse, asking for directions to the family waiting room, and she gestured down a hall on their left.

Voices drifted down the hall as they slowly made their way, weaving past stretchers and chairs scattered along the walls.

"You know you're snoring, right?" The voice was one that Edward was vaguely familiar with, one of Wil's roommates that he had heard through her door while dropping off copies of her song.

"Shut up," a disgruntled Wil muttered, her voice rough. Edward guessed that she may have drifted off from the groggy sound of her voice. "I don't snore."

"Right," her roommate agreed. "We would have been here sooner, but it took forever to track down one of the professors. She got your coat and purse out of the back for you."

"Thanks."

"How's Uncle Chuck?" another voice asked, and Edward slowed; he wanted to hear the answer to this question. Alice and Jasper slowed with him, listening with sharp ears as they approached a turn in the hall.

"They say he'll be fine," she told them. "I don't know much more; Mom's talking with one of the doctors now."

"Scary," one of her roommates said.

"Shouldn't you guys be at home?" Wil asked with a distinct tinge of concern in her voice. Why was she concerned about them at a time like this? 

"Yeah. We just wanted to make sure you had your stuff first," was the response. Edward bristled; these were her best friends, and they should want to be here with her at a time like this, not lounging at home! "You'll be fine? One of us can stay if you need us."

"No, please, go. I'll worry less if you're at home," Wil told them, thoroughly confusing Edward. He tried to make sense of the statement but could not. "I plan on coming home as soon as Mom gets back, unless she wants me to stay. I'll call."

"That's my entrance," Edward said quietly, reminding himself to be cool and distant with her. He let his lips turn up in a smirk and stepped around the corner, Alice and Jasper not far behind.

"That will be difficult without this," he said, striding toward them. His siblings stopped at the corner, lingering behind. He held up her headpiece for a moment, then tossed it underhand to her. She caught it with ease, surprising him. "You left it on the piano."

_Wow,_ one of the women with Wil thought, eyeing him up and down. _And I thought he looked good from a distance. Lucky Wil._

"We'll just…go…" the other woman said, casting Wil a glance. Wil nodded, offering them an smile before turning her attention back to Edward.

"Thanks," Wil told Edward as she placed the headset in her ear. Touching a button, she whispered a quick request for messages, and he heard the electronic voice tell her there were none. With a quiet sigh, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Edward wasn't sure what to say, so he stood there awkwardly, wondering if he should just leave.

"So, great job tonight. Thank you again for doing that for me," Wil offered just as Edward was about to turn away. He shrugged in response, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat to fight the sudden urge to reach out to her.

"It was surprisingly enjoyable," he admitted, though he wasn't sure why. He was supposed to be leaving. He opened his mouth to say goodbye, and instead found himself saying, "How is your… uncle?"

"My mom's uncle, actually. He'll be fine, they say. It was probably his heart," she explained, lowering herself into a chair. Edward followed, sitting by her side, his hands still in his pockets. At the end of the hall, Jasper cleared his throat.

_Comfortable?_ he asked. Edward ignored him.

"Do you know him well?" He should have been surprised that he was so interested, but at moments like this, so close to her, it was hard to ignore the pull between them – no matter how much he wanted to. This was a hospital, he told himself. People were supposed to be overly considerate. He was just doing what anyone does when someone is waiting for a loved one in the emergency room.

Right.

"I've seen him every year at holidays and reunions, but he lives a ways away from us." She met his gaze, and he read in her eyes grief at the statement, as well as concern and exhaustion. She needed rest; he hoped she could get it soon. "He was always really great when I saw him though. This is harder on my mom than it is me. My grandfather died when she was young, and she sort of looks to Uncle Chuck – his brother – as the next best thing. Grandma actually moved closer to Uncle Chuck with she lost her husband, to have some family nearby I guess, and was there for a few years before deciding to move to Kennewick."

Wil paused there, and she gave him a wry smile. "Sorry, I guess the night is wearing on me after all. I'm carrying on when you probably want to get going."

"It's fine," Edward assured her. "You are from Washington?"

"Yes. Small world, isn't it?" she mused, chuckling. "Where in Washington are you from? I noticed your number was back there."

He shrugged. "We move around a lot. My Dad spent some time in Washington, and my number is on his plan. He was near Port Angeles, small little town about an hour out."

"Really?" Wil's eyebrows raised. "That's the same side of the state Uncle Chuck's from. He used to be a sheriff or something near some native reservation like an hour or so from there."

What?

Edward fought the urge to glance down the hall at Jasper, who had given a sharp intake of breath.

_Oh, hell no. _Jasper's errant thought drifted down the hall to him, confirming that he'd had the same thought as Edward.

" I wonder if they ever met," Wil was continuing, barely noticed by the three vampires.

"They may have…" Edward muttered distractedly, then rose to his feet. "I am monopolizing your time. Dr. Jackson wanted to make sure I told you we were all invited to a dinner tomorrow at the Applebees in Hanover, since we were unable to gather tonight. He said to meet there at 6." He finally let himself look over to Alice and Jasper, whose heads were leaned together as they whispered fiercely back and forth.

"Guess I'll see you there," Wil said. "Thanks for getting my headset back to me."

Edward gave her an absent nod as he walked down the hall toward his siblings. They fell into step with him and they went just far enough to disappear out of Wil's sight before stopping.

They whispered faster than any human could hear.

"Do you really think it could be him?"

"Well, this explains why my vision saw you visiting a hospital room."

"Is that why you can't read her properly?"

"What are the chances?"

"What are we going to do?"

Alice and Jasper bounced questions back and forth while Edward listened, shell shocked and not quite able to process what this all meant. There were too many coincidences, not the least of which being Willa's uncanny ability to block out Edward's talent, but he wasn't prepared to believe that his father-in-law lay just down the hall…

"I need to go check," Edward announced suddenly. Alice blinked, her eyes going unfocused for a moment, and in her mind another vision came into being.

"Yes. Yes, it is him," she said firmly. "If you go tonight, he'll still be unconscious, and there will be no harm done."

"You mean aside from seeing him on stage dedicating a performance to Charlie's daughter," Jasper pointed out, glancing at his brother. He reached out and placed a steadying hand on Edward's shoulder, offering him a gentle push of calm.

"We can figure out what to do about that later tonight, with the whole family," Edward told them with a shake of his head. "I want to make sure he's all right..." He trailed off, not giving voice to his other concern: that he had been the death sentence for a second member of the Swan family. Jasper picked up on his guilt and sent a stronger sense of calm and relief that Edward didn't deserve.

"Can't you tell?" Jasper asked, looking at his wife. She glanced away, concentrating for a moment, then shook her head.

"No," she said sadly. "It's been too long. I can't see him."

Edward nodded. "Then I'll go." He pushed past them both, heading down the hall to the nurses' station they had passed on the way in. He heard Alice's phone chirp behind him and ignored it.

There was a certain expectation of nurses stations in a hospital, and this one was no different: computer screens, photos of children and family pinned up on boards, and of course the wide open counter welcoming visitors. A woman in her mid-thirties manned the desk wearing dark blue scrubs that had been recently pressed, her honey-yellow hair pulled up into a bun with errant strands falling out. She smiled warmly as he stepped up to the counter, eyeing him up and down once.

"May I help you?" she asked, her thoughts still wrapped up in the chart she'd been looking over.

"I'm looking for Charles Swan," Edward told her. "He was brought in earlier this evening. I was wondering if he had been moved to a room yet."

"Charles Swan," the nurse – a small name tag labeled her Shelly – picked up a tablet from the desk in front of her and tapped it a few times. "Stable, recovering on the second floor, family only." She peered at him over the tablet. "You family?"

Edward dipped his head, allowing some of his worry to show through. "Quite nearly, Shelly. My family and his have been close for many years, and he is like a-" He caught himself quickly, remembering how many years had passed. He swallowed thickly to cover the break, and in her mind, Shelly noticed how badly he seemed to feel about the older man's condition. "He's like a grandfather to me."

"Well…" She looked him over once more, and he did his best to look crestfallen at her hesitation. "All right, go ahead. He's in room 204. Just don't stay long, OK?"

"I won't," Edward assured her with a smile, thanking her before he turned away and went to the elevators. One waited on the first floor, and he rose quickly to the second, then followed the signs pointing him down the 201-213 hallway.

The door to room 204 was the same bland white as every door in the hospital, but it intimidated Edward. He hesitated outside of it, his hand on the knob, and centered himself. He was thankful his siblings hadn't followed; this was something he wanted to face alone. Steeling himself, he pushed the door open and slipped in, closing it quietly behind him.

The man that laid in the bed was greyer and more lined than the police chief Edward had known, his hair line a little higher and his face more drawn, but there was no mistaking him. Stepping closer, Edward let his gaze roam over the man's familiar features – the nose so much like his daughter's, the strong chin still well defined in old age. The years had been kind of Charlie, and he barely looked his 50 or so years. He snored softly, and his heart sounded strong; the shock had passed, and he was recovering perfectly.

It was a weight off Edward's shoulders, though he still felt oddly heavy. Looking at her father, Edward couldn't help wondering what Bella would have looked like old and grey, though he knew that was foolish to mourn; she was never meant to reach old age, one way or another.

He left the room quickly, his father-in-law still snoring quietly.


	22. It All Falls Apart

As much as she didn't want to, Wil ended up spending the night at the hospital with her mother, taking only a brief trip home to change out of her dress. Being the only family nearby, the hospital had allowed both of them to sleep in his room, and Wil tried to curl up in the uncomfortable chair in the corner while her mother slept on the fold out couch. When she had come back from meeting with the doctor, she had been wracked with guilt; his tests had come back very healthy, meaning the heart attack was likely due to some kind of stress or shock.

Patricia had taken that personally, blaming herself for letting him make such a long trip.

Morning came, bringing with it a back ache and a crick in Wil's neck. She left her mother sleeping and ventured down to the cafeteria to stretch her back out. When she got back to the room, she was carrying a tray loaded with pastries and two steaming syrofoam cups of coffee.

"Oh, there you are honey," her mother greeted her as she set the tray down. Taking a cup, Wil went to sit on the couch that her mother had folded back into place. "Have you seen this?" Patricia grabbed her own cup, gesturing to the screen on the wall. An anchorman spoke in one box, the other showing a wide shot of a University building with police lines set up around the parking lot. "Apparently there was some kind of animal attack last night; two young men have gone missing, with only torn clothing and a supposedly a mess of blood left behind. I had no idea there was an animal problem at Dartmouth."

Wil leaned forward, craning her neck to see the screen. She cradled her coffee between both hands and frowned. "I know that place," she said, and her mother looked at her sharply. Wil was too busy staring at the screen to take notice. Rising to her feet, she crossed the room and picked up the remote, turning the volume up. Unfortunately, as she did so, the newscast cut to a commercial, and with a curse she turned it down again.

"You don't have classes there, do you Willa?" Patricia asked. Wil shook her head.

"No, but a roommate does…did," Wil said, still standing. She stared at the screen almost in disbelief. What were the chances that there would be an attack in the same parking lot where they'd found Rhonda's abandoned car?

Was that what had happened?

"Well, you stay away at any rate," her mother was saying. Patricia reached over to take the remote back, and she changed the channel. "I don't want you to be the next big news story, all right?"

"Yeah, Mom," Wil muttered. "Listen, I've got to make a call-"

"Patricia?"

The whispery voice silenced her, and both of them turned to see Uncle Chuck staring at them from where he lay on the bed. Both of them rushed over, one on each side of the bed, the screen behind them flashing as a new commercial came on.

"How are you feeling?" Patricia asked softly.

He chuckled. "Like I've been run down by giant wolves," he muttered. "Been worse, though. What the hell happened?"

"You collapsed at the recital," Wil told him, and when he looked at her, his eyes were fierce.

"Yes, I remember," he whispered, and Wil had the impression that it was more to himself than either of them. He turned back to his niece, and she took his hand. "Can you be a dear and get me something to drink?" Patricia smiled brightly, leaning over to peck him on the cheek.

"Of course. Let me just hit the call button for you," she said, reaching for the button on the wall beside his bed. Uncle Chuck shook his head.

"I'd rather a bottle, something I can close if I want to. I'm in no mood to go spilling a glass all over my lap," he told her with dry humor. She nodded her agreement, slipping her hand from his and leaning down to place a kiss on his weathered cheek. He reached up almost without thinking, wiping it away as his niece stood back up. His eyes had returned to the younger woman in the room, and he gave her a hard look that made Wil shift under his gaze.

"Willa, you stay and keep him company until I'm back," Patricia said. "Your call can wait."

"Yes, Mom," she said blandly, taking the opportunity to pull her gaze from Uncle Chuck's. She offered her mother a reassuring smile.

"All right. I'll be back in a minute." Reluctantly, she turned and left the room. Wil stepped away from the beside, eyeing the remote for the TV – now singing the praises of the latest miracle cleaner that could get any stain out of any fabric – and felt a hand close around her wrist.

"How well do you know that young man you performed with?" Uncle Chuck asked fiercely. His voice was hard, but when she looked at him, the expression on his face was protective rather than angry. Wil blinked at him, surprised, and tugged her wrist away from his grip.

"Not too well," she said. "I met him right before the winter break; he agreed to play for me."

"He's trouble," Uncle Chuck told her sternly enough to make her raise an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Yes! He is," he stressed, and she rolled her eyes at him. Crossing the room in a couple quick strides, she picked up the remote and turned the screen off, but not before a photo of Rhonda stared back at her for a moment. It seemed the press had made the connection between the location of the attack and where she had disappeared from.

"He seems nice," she told him, setting the remote down. Instead of turning to look at him again, she went over to the couch and sat down. His sudden dislike of Edward seemed ridiculous, but she tried to stay calm, reminding herself that he had just been through a trauma and was probably not thinking straight; the old man usually had a very even temper and a calm head on his shoulders. "He's been an amazing partner for the recital, and he's got incredible talent."

"None of that's worth a crap. Stay away from him, Willa. Trust me."

"And if I don't?" she challenged, fighting her rising temper. It made matters worse than he laughed at her quietly.

"You're just like her, damn it," he said under his breath. "You know I was in law enforcement, Wil – even acted as chief of police before I decided to let someone, er, fresher take the spot. I can read people, and he's a bloodsucking leech, dirty as a two dollar bill."

"Who is?" Patricia asked, coming back in the door with a bottle of water. A man in a white coat followed behind, smiling cordially.

"Glad to have you awake, Mr. Swan," he said, taking the tablet that hung from the end of Uncle Chuck's bed and tapping it to life. He reviewed a few things, then put it back and retrieved a thermometer from his pocket. "Let's take a look at your vitals, shall we?"

Wil excused herself, throwing on her coat and saying quietly that she'd call her mother that afternoon to see how everyone was.

What the hell? She fumed as she strode out of the hospital and called a cab. She couldn't remember a single time that Uncle Chuck had tried to intervene in her life like that. He'd always watched over her of course, keeping her from trouble when she was younger, but what did he think he was doing? Where had that come from?

"I'm a cop, indeed," she muttered, pacing outside the hospital doors. He was an old man recovering from a heart attack, and he was probably delusional from the pain medication. Raising her arm, she rubbed her wrist where he'd grabbed her, unsettled by the severe look in his eyes.

When the cab pulled up, she slipped into the back, sliding a card through the reader on the back of the driver's seat to pay for the trip. She gave her address and settled back into the seat. A newspaper sat folded on the far side of the cab, complimentary reading for the trip, but she ignored it; it was sure to be full of news about Rhonda and the last night's attack, neither subject anything she cared to read about. If she was honest with herself, all she really wanted to do was get home, go to bed, and wake up in a world where her family was safely back home, her roommate was where she belonged, and everything was back to normal.

It struck her that she didn't wish for Andrew for the first time since he's died, and a wave of guilt crashed over her.

The cab stopped, and she muttered a thank you before slipping out. She jerked her purse over her shoulder and strode up to her apartment building, wincing as she flung the door open and it clattered in its hinges from the force. After stomping up the stairs, she let herself into their apartment and dropped her purse on the table.

"Wil, that you?" Kate's voice drifted out from the living room as Wil hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes.

"Yeah, it's me," she called back, her voice clipped.

"How's your uncle doing?" There was a strain in Kate's voice, and when Wil came around the corner, she saw her roommate wore no make up – a rarity for her – and her eyes were red. Eve was nowhere to be seen.

Wil collapsed, exhausted, onto the couch. "It was a heart attack," she said, "but his heart's healthy. He'll be fine." Kate nodded, bringing her hands together and clasping them. She wrung them for a moment, staring at the floor.

"Rhonda's mom called a little while ago…" she started in a voice so quiet Wil could barely hear her. They both froze, and Kate lifted her gaze, their eyes meeting. After a moment, she looked away again. "Apparently, there was something at last night's attack scene with Rhonda's DNA on it or something. She… They're ending the search. Her parents are going home to plan a funeral, and said they'd be back next month sometime for her stuff."

Her voice broke as she said the last word, but Wil scarcely heard it. She sat motionless, feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her. Her hands clutched the couch cushion as she fought to keep from being swept away with the images that flashed through her head: planning the funeral with Andrew's parents, being told he was dead, knowing it was over.

Just like it was over for Rhonda.

A part of her wanted to rebel against it. There was no body, after all, no proof. She could still be out there. Missing. Lost. Afraid. Wil didn't want to give up, be helpless as it all falls apart, but what else could she do?

"What if she's still…?" She let the thought trail off, almost ashamed to give it voice.

Kate shook her head. "They say while it's possible, it isn't likely. They've – what was it? – 'exhausted all search opportunities.'"

"So she goes on the missing person list," Wil mused, "and that's it." Bitterness seeped into her words, and she leaned back, closing her eyes.

"Yeah." Kate sighed. "Eve's with Jeremy. He's a mess, wants to keep searching on his own if the police won't. I know how he feels. I hate to think she's just – gone."

Wil nodded, not trusting her voice. She wanted to rage but knew there was no point. Nothing would change the situation; nothing could give them back what they had lost.

Nothing ever did.

"Wil?" Kate asked tentatively. Looking over, Wil saw that her roommate had tears in her eyes again. Wordlessly, they fell into each other, arms wrapping around the other and clinging for dear life as the two of them started to cry.

Somehow, the two of them pulled themselves together…eventually. There was a strange fog-like quality to the way they went about the rest of their day. Wil's mother called not long after she'd arrived home, angry about the state she had left Uncle Chuck in and the way she had set him off. That triggered the anger in Wil, and the two got to shouting until Wil screamed at her mother that her roommate was dead; that brought the fight to a halt, and over an hour later, she at least had the relief of having told her family – finally – what was going on. It didn't make it any better, but when Patricia had offered to come over for a while, Wil was glad she was in town.

Eve and Jeremy arrived around noon; hugs were shared, and Jeremy had finally opened the door to Rhonda's room, entering with a hush as though it was a sacred shrine not to be disturbed. He left not long after, a bag thrown over his shoulder filled with keepsakes and memories. There was nothing said when he left; none of them knew what to say. Jeremy's visit prompted the girls, however, and they spent the afternoon visiting Rhonda's room one by one, paying respects, returning borrowed clothes to her closet and cleaning it up.

Patricia arrived in the late afternoon with dinner in hand, and the four of them ate in awkward silence, the sound of wrappers and crunching fries settled over the three of them like a death knell. Before long, both Kate and Eve stood up and dumped most of their food in the trash. They disappeared into their room without a word, leaving Wil and her mother alone. Patricia was waiting for her daughter to speak, and they ate in silence for a while before Wil looked at her mother with tears in her eyes.

There was something relieving about crying in the arms of your mother. They didn't talk, and Patricia left after they finished eating, but Wil felt a little better for having her there.

Wil sat there much longer, looking out the window and watching the sky slowly fade to black. She thought about attending the post-recital dinner, but quickly decided she wasn't in the mood for it. Instead, she sat in the living room being haunted by the ghosts of her fiancé and her roommate until they finally chased her to her room. When her mother called late in the evening, she let it roll to voicemail. She lay in bed tossing and turning for hours, her eyes falling too often on the pictures of Rhonda and Andrew on her desk.

Finally, she'd gotten up, thrown on a coat, and started to walk.

As the wind began to pick up, she started to regret not putting on anything heavier than her yoga pants and tank top. Her coat buffered much of the cold, but the wind managed to find its way down her neck and up her pant legs, chilling her. She shivered as she went, jet set firm, and her hair played around her face as the wind pulled them every direction.

She figured she would rather be cold and uncomfortable than spend another minute in her apartment being chased by ghosts and memories.

"Hey there, baby," a slurred voice called out from across the street. Wil raised her head, taking the wind square in the face as she squinted over at the voice. Three men had come to a stop under a street light, all openly leering over at her.

"We're having a party," another called to her. "You should come!"

Shaking her head, Wil stuck her hands in her pockets and strode away. She heard their disappointed grumbling behind her and ignored it, turning a corner and starting a wide circuit back toward her apartment.

It was hard to tell, as silence settled back over campus, that things had changed so drastically. If she closed her eyes and set aside the pit in her stomach, she could pretend for a while that this was last month, and that when she returned things would fall back into a more comfortable routine.

She paused, lingering on that thought for a moment. When had things become comfortable?

When had things become so good without Andrew that she wished for them?

A familiar pang of guilt stabbed at her, and no matter how quickly she walked down the street, she couldn't escape it. She knew all that things that people told her, that Andrew would want her to move on and live a happy life, but it seemed like a betrayal somehow. As she came up to a bus stop, she paused, sitting on the bench and leaning back. A few snowflakes were beginning to flutter down from the sky, and one landed on her nose, dissolving into nothing in an instant.

She reached up to touch where it had landed and realized she was crying.

Wil couldn't say why she was crying, nor could she stop it. Hunching over on the bus bench, she set her face in her gloved hands and sobbed for a time, releasing tears that had built up inside her for days, for weeks, maybe even for months. Once the flood gates had opened, she just kept crying, a new thought bringing on a fresh wave of sobs whenever they began to ease. The snow started coming heavier, big fat flakes that swirled as they came near her, each of them disappearing when they touched the ground. No one came past her, no cars on the street or frat boys looking to continue a night of partying. In the back of her mind, she thought it fitting that she should be so alone.

Without Andrew, she should be alone.

Right?

The question, the single word, set off a fresh round of tears that shook Wil's shoulders and froze on her hands. This time, though, she knew why she cried, and it scared her terribly.

She was ready to move on.

She didn't want to be. She still loved Andrew more than she could express in words, and ached for the wedding they were supposed to have this spring. Holding his memory close to her for so long, she didn't know what else to do with her life…but she knew she had to do something. Losing Andrew had shattered to pieces the life she had in mind for herself, forcing her to rebuild. She hadn't though. Instead, she'd put everything on permanent hold.

It took losing Rhonda for her to realize that life was short, that you never knew when it would end. It reminded her that she needed to make the most of what she had today. Rhonda had lived like that. Rhonda had always gone for exactly what she wanted, nothing more and nothing less. Maybe it was time for Wil to let herself do the same.

She would always love Andrew, but it was time to allow herself to leave him in the past.


	23. Charlie

"So, basically, we know jack," Emmett said with a sigh. He sat on the couch in their living room, an arm wrapped around his wife, and he gave her a squeeze when he said it. Rosalie laid a hand on his leg and squeezed back.

"Except that Dartmouth will be national news by next week unless we do something," Jasper corrected him reluctantly. No one wanted to think about that, though Edward could see images of the Volturi in all of their minds. After the latest attack, the police were making no headway on finding a suspect, and the entire campus seemed to be waiting for the next person to go missing.

Edward growled under his breath, pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning against and stalking around the room. The others watched him for a moment, looks of concern and sympathy on their faces; no one knew what to say to him, however, so they continued their discussion without him.

"What about Charlie?" Emmett asked, looking over to Alice. The man was heavily on all of their minds; since seeing him at the hospital, Edward had been in even more of a sullen, withdrawn mood. Edward knew they all suspected his mood had as much to do with Willa as it did with his father-in-law, but no one had been brave enough to voice it, at least with him in ear shot.

"He won't tell anyone," she said firmly, though she'd had no vision to support it. She believed in Bella's father the same way she had believed in Bella; they all wanted to believe she was right, but the fact was that Chief Swan had both the reason and the resources to look into their family far more than he ought to, and anything he uncovered would become available in official computers all over Washington state.

Now, it wasn't just a rogue vampire that could bring the Volturi down on them. If Charlie found anything using his connections with the Forks police department, word would get back to Italy through their planted connections.

"I still say we just talk to him," Emmett told them. "He's practically family – shit, he _is_ family. Tell him the truth and he won't have to go searching for it. No harm done. And just think… Nessie could get to meet her grandfather."

Most of his argument was familiar; they'd had this discussion numerous times over the past few days. At the mention of Nessie, however, Rosalie stirred. "He's right," she said. "They deserve a chance to get to know each other, and this is the perfect opportunity."

Edward sighed. To say that thought hadn't crossed his mind would be lying, but he still wasn't convinced they should talk to him. Rose stood, slipping out of Emmett's embrace, and walked over to Edward. Setting a hand on his shoulder, he stopped him. He looked at her, and when their gaze met, her eyes were filled with sympathy.

"I'll do it if you don't," she said gently. "But you know he deserves to hear it from you."

He thought of his daughter for a moment, and he realized that Emmett had found the argument to convince both of them. He could deny Charlie the truth, but he couldn't deny Renesmee her only other blood relative.

"I know," he sighed. "I'll go tomorrow."

"No, go tonight," Rosalie told him. "I'll go with Jasper on patrol."

"Fine with me," Jasper agreed. He had, at first, been on Edward's side against telling Charlie. Alice had been so much in support of the idea, though, that he had come around; he never could deny his wife anything.

Edward left them not long after, once they'd finalized the plan for the next few days of patrols. They would step them up again, the five of them skipping classes as they worked to find the vampire before any more harm came to the Dartmouth student body. Alice still couldn't see what the outcome would be, so they agreed to keep their phones on at all times. Jasper suggested calling Carlisle or Renesmee – or both – but they agreed there was too much uncertainty to bring anyone else in the family into the situation.

As he got into his car, Edward's phone rang. Bringing the engine to life, he asked the phone to identify the caller, and when an electronic voice informed him that it was Wil, he grimaced. It took effort to clip his seatbelt into place and pull the car down the driveway, each ring of the phone tempting him.

He'd been avoiding her studiously since the recital. He skipped the dinner the professors had invited them all to, stayed away from the buildings he knew she had classes in, and hadn't even stepped foot into the music building. While he missed his time at the piano, he knew it was better for her – for both of them – if he just ceased to exist to her. Only his promise to his family to try to start practicing medicine kept him at Dartmouth; the thought of leaving had crossed his mind many times, but he didn't want to disappoint them any more than he already had. He knew Rosalie especially was glad to be here, to see him participating again, and he owed her far too much for the way she had been a mother to Renesmee in Bella's absence.

"One message," his phone said into his ear, and once he'd set the car to auto, he reached up to tap the headset.

"Play messages," he said quietly. Wil's voice came back at him.

"Edward. It's Wil. I haven't seen you around, so I figured I'd call…" She trailed off, stumbling over her words for a moment. "Listen, I wanted to know if I could bring something over to your place – just a little something I picked up in appreciation for all your hard work. I can't thank you enough. So… Call me?"

The phone beeped, signaling the end of the message, and he told the phone to delete it.

What was he going to do with her? She would pick up where Bella had left off in killing him, slowly but surely. He wanted to call – of course he did – but he pressed his lips together instead, staring out the front windshield and watching the car maneuver its way through rush hour traffic toward the University hospital. He had to ignore her, deny her request… Right?

Thinking of his siblings, he knew they would be equally split. They were on the subject of Wil entirely. No one discussed it with him, though he was sure they'd had many debates over who would do it and when. They were all trying to block their thoughts from him on the subject, and he tried to respect their privacy, but at moments something would be bubbling through that caught his attention regardless.

Wil had a way of catching his attention that he wasn't sure he wanted to acknowledge.

Settling back into the seat, he tried to turn his thoughts toward Bella, to disappear into another of his reveries, but even that was difficult with Charlie looming ever closer. He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Charlie the night they'd told him of their engagement, and his chest constricted. How could he face this man after letting him down so thoroughly?

It was inevitable that he did, but that didn't make it any easier. How could he, as one father to another, apologize for taking the life of Charlie's only child? How could he make that right? The thought of losing Renesmee suffocated Edward.

The car turned sharply, and Edward realized they were arriving at the hospital. Taking control of the car back, he made his way around the building to the main entrance, choosing a spot on the far end of the lot. He got out slowly, locking the car behind him and trudging across the lot with his hands in his pockets, still trying to decide what he would say. His asked at the desk for Charlie's room number, anticipating that it had changed since his initial admittance, and leaned against the wall of the elevator as he rode it up to the third floor.

Too soon, he was outside Charlie's door. With a last thought to fleeing, he summed up the courage to knock and listened as he heard a shuffling of paper inside.

"Come on in," Charlie called. His voice was strong, but had become more brittle with age than it had a right to. Swallowing unnecessarily, Edward pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He didn't have the courage to look up when he heard the other man's quiet gasp.

"Edward." He spoke the name like a curse, his voice rumbling in warning. "I suppose I should have expected a visit. Go figure, Billy was right all this time."

Edward didn't speak, standing with his hands in his pockets and staring at a spot on the blanket beside Charlie's legs. The blanket, like all hospital issue, was a faded white that had little balls of fuzz clinging to it, and Edward chose one to focus on. Peripherally, he could see the vase of daisies set beside his bed, and the foil balloon shouting "Get Well Soon!" that floated above it; he idly wondered if it was from Wil or her mother.

"So, what brings a bloodsucking bastard like you to a place like this?" Charlie asked, shifting. He swung his legs out of the bed, reaching for the IV pole that stood beside him. A thin tube wound its way down to his arm, fluid dripping slowly in the bag, and Edward shifted his gaze to this as the man approached him with a slight limp. "What – don't have anything to say to me? Suits me fine. I don't want to talk anyway."

Edward saw the movement as Charlie lifted his free hand, balling it into a fist and taking a swing, but he didn't dodge. Instead, he let Charlie connect – just barely – and moved with the punch, giving him the satisfaction of the hit without allowing him to be hurt.

"Been wanting to do that for over a decade now," Charlie said softly, watching Edward straighten back up. "Too bad I left my gun back home. Guess it wouldn't do much good though, right?"

He turned from Edward as he spoke, going back to the bed and sitting on the edge. He pushed the IV pole so it sat beside the head of the bed, out of his way. "Now what? You here to kill me like you killed her – suck the life right out of me? You seem to be taking your time, but then, you like to play with your food, don't you?"

"No," Edward said softly.

"No? Fine then, just get it over with. Have the balls to look me in the eye as you do it though, would you?" When Edward looked up, he saw the fury in Charlie's eyes, and the sight made him cringe. He opened his mouth to respond, but for a moment nothing came to him. He deserved every bit of this man's hatred, deserved the accusations.

Finally, he found his voice. "Chief, I'm sorry."

"Damn lot of good that does either of us," Charlie spat back at him.

"I know," Edward said, and he looked away again, finding a spot on the floor to stare at. "I promised that I would take care of your daughter in your stead, and I failed miserably. I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I don't expect it. I can't even forgive myself."

Charlie, ready to lay into the man again, paused for a moment. He looked over Edward, taking in his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, and sighed quietly. "Well, I didn't expect that."

They were silent for a minute, Charlie sizing Edward up, Edward trying to find the courage to face his father-in-law again. Now that he had said the words he'd been wanting to for a decade, he didn't know what else to do, so he waited for any reprisal that was coming to him.

"Look at me," Charlie said suddenly. "Give me the respect of looking me in the eye." Hesitantly, Edward did as he asked. Charlie's gaze was still angry, but it had dimmed, and he watched Edward critically. It reminded him of the way he'd looked while on a case when Edward and Bella had visited him at the station. Whatever he saw made him frown.

"You look no different from the day she died," he muttered.

"Sir, if you are familiar with the Quileute legends, you know we don't age," Edward answered, unsure where he was going with his comment.

"No, not that," Charlie said with a wave of his hand. "You still look just as devastated as you did at her funeral. You didn't kill her, did you?"

Edward wanted to tear his gaze away, but Charlie's request for respect echoed in his mind, and he resisted the urge. "I didn't mean to." His voice cracked when he said it, and he covered his face with his hands. "I didn't know."

Grief crashed over him in waves, facing this shadow of his past, and he gave a choked sob. Charlie sighed again and said, "Sit down, son." Edward did as he was told, moving to the chair that sat beside Charlie's bed and settling into it. He set his elbows on his legs and shook with dry tears.

"If you aren't here to kill me," Charlie said thoughtfully, "you must be here for something else. What is it?"

Edward scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to get control over himself again. He looked up at Charlie, meeting his gaze again – this time, the man's eyes were not unkind. "I – we – figured you deserved the truth."

Charlie nodded. "You took your time," he said gruffly.

"Yes," Edward agreed, "but there are…rules…laws…against this, and we already had too much attention on us back then to risk it."

"So, you are Cold Ones, and you aren't supposed to tell anyone." Charlie was piecing it together for himself, and also prompting Edward forward. "Did she know?"

"Yes. From the beginning," Edward assured him, and he nodded with appreciation. "When she first-"

"No, I don't want to know the details," Charlie said quickly. "Just tell me how she died. Tell me _why_ she died, and why you say it was your fault." He leaned back against his pillows, shifting until he was comfortable and watching Edward. Waiting patiently, he folded his hands and allowed Edward the time to pull his thoughts together. For a moment, grief constricted his throat, but he swallowed and found himself ready to speak.

"We went to the Isle for our honeymoon like we'd planned," he explained, "and we… Well…" He paused, running a hand through his hair. Charlie seemed to pick up on his hesitation and cleared his throat.

"No details," he emphasized, and Edward nodded.

"Because of my … condition … no one thought we needed birth control," Edward said, stumbling over the words. Charlie's eyes grew wide.

"Oh! So… She wasn't sick." His voice was thoughtful with a twinge of wonder, and in a rare glimpse from his mind, Edward caught an image of Bella holding a baby that tore his heart apart.

"No." Edward choked on the word, then took a moment to calm himself before he continued. "The pregnancy was hard on her. The baby grew faster than in a normal pregnancy, and she was far stronger than a typical neonate."

Charlie asked quietly, "She?" When Edward nodded, a soft smile touched the old man's lips at the thought of Bella having a daughter. It was a fleeting moment.

"The baby reached full term quickly," Edward said, and Charlie tried futilely to mask his surprise at this fact. "When it was time… Bella…" He shuddered, and Charlie reached out to set a hand on Edward's arm.

"You tried to save her," he guessed. "I'm sure you did everything you can, son. I've lost a wife and a daughter, though, and I've learned you can't blame yourself for the things you didn't see coming. You can't get caught in the past either – you deserve to move on and let yourself be happy."

Edward pulled away from Charlie's touch. "I _killed_ her," he argued.

"You made her last days full of joy," Charlie countered. "Woman die in pregnancy and childbirth even in normal situations, Edward." He paused, letting that sink in, and Edward looked away. He knew it was true, but it didn't feel the same. Charlie cleared his throat, bringing Edward's attention back to him. "What happened to the baby?"

Their eyes met, both of them hesitant and uncertain. Edward's expression warmed slightly as he thought of his daughter, and he reached for the wallet in his back pocket. "I'm afraid I owe you another apology," he admitted, abashed. "Under the circumstances, we couldn't very well tell you about her back then."

"But?" Charlie prompted. Edward flipped his wallet open, pulling out a small photo of Renesmee taken shortly before she and Jacob had moved out. He handed the photo over to Charlie.

To his credit, he didn't react to the fact that Renesmee appeared the same age her mother had been when she died. He was a sharp man, though, and if the pregnancy had gone faster than normal, he had probably expected her growth would too. With the photo in one hand, he lifted the other, stroking it thoughtfully with his thumb as he studied it. A wistful expression took over his face, and Edward could smell the mist of tears that welled in his eyes.

"She has her eyes," he whispered.

"She has a lot of Bella's best traits," Edward told him. "Bella named her before she died… Renesmee Carlie. Her first name was a combination of our mothers – Renee and Esme – and her middle name-"

"Carlisle and Charlie." The old man's tears finally slipped from his eyes, and he clutched the photo in his hand like a lifeline.

Edward stayed an hour longer, telling Charlie all about the granddaughter he didn't know he had, from her days as a baby when Bella had just passed and how she had been his lifeline, to the way she had looked exactly like her mother on her wedding day. He never mentioned her husband's name, figuring there had been enough surprises for the day, but assured him truthfully that she had married a man who accepted her fully, every part of her, and that Bella would have approved whole heartedly of her choice.

When Alice sent him a message saying Wil's mother would be arriving soon, Edward finally excused himself, leaving Charlie with Renesmee's picture and a promise that they would be in touch soon.


	24. Blood

No Andrew. No Rhonda. No Edward. Not even Kate and Eve usually. By the time Friday had arrived, Wil's new determination to live a full and happy life in Rhonda's memory had fallen like so much ash in the wake of a brilliant fire.

Wil's roommates had been pouring themselves into their classes since Monday, using them like Wil used the new song she was composing in an effort to get away from the realities that surrounded them. Kate was actually completing assignments as they were given rather than leaving them for the last second, and Eve had worked ahead in many of her courses, completing much of the syllabus given out at the beginning of term. Wil watched them work as she ate supper with them, the three women huddled around trays in the living room barely speaking a word.

The exception had been Wednesday, when Jeremy came over and the four of them held a candlelight vigil for Rhonda. Since none of them could travel to her funeral out in Missouri, they came together that night instead, sharing memories, jokes, and tears late into the night. When Jeremy finally left, he gave each of them a hug and promised to stay in touch, but Wil doubted he would. Andrew's friends, those that had come to know and accept Wil only because of her association to him, had been the first she had lost touch with after his death. There was simply nothing left to talk about without that shared link.

After supper each night, when Eve and Kate both excused themselves to work feverishly on their course work, Wil slipped out the door for a walk in the failing light. It helped to clear her head, and was her one time that she allowed herself to really think. She spoke aloud on the walks, quietly so no one thought she was crazy, talking to herself to sound things out and try to make sense of them. Sometimes she spoke to Andrew, reassuring him that she loved him and reassuring herself that it was really all right to let him go. It may not have been the best way to move on, but it gave her peace of mind.

She spoke to Edward too, or rather, at him, since he was not returning her calls and had not been in their rehearsal room when Wil had stopped in both Tuesday and Thursday after her composition class. The disappointed she felt at his sudden lack in her life was bitter, and her "conversations" with him were often more blunt, muttering and cursing under her breath.

Friday was a rare clear night, stars scattered across the sky surrounding a quarter moon. It was warmer than usual too, a little above freezing, allowing Wil to wear a lighter jacket as she wandered around the Dartmouth campus. Others seemed to have the same idea she did, and often she crossed paths with people out enjoying the night. More than a few were drinking, and she usually dodged them, wondering what it would be like to be so carefree in college. She's never been that sort, even in high school.

Like every night, she kept to familiar parts of campus, but otherwise wandered with little direction or aim. There were pockets of campus she avoided, typically those closest to the bars and most likely to gain her unwanted attention, but she smiled and nodded to enough people that the campus felt alive. She turned down a street, away from a pack of frat boys shouting and shoving their way down the sidewalk, and kept her attention on them as their rough voices faded away…just in case.

When she could no longer hear them, she paused, looking around for the first time in a while. In the absence of their voices, the street was oddly quiet for that particular Friday night. The street lights buzzed overhead, but otherwise she could not hear anything – no voices, no footsteps, no signs of life beyond her own soft breathing.

It was an eerie sensation after the general hum of the campus that night. Wil stuck her hands in her pockets, closing one fist around the keys to her apartment, rattling them around nervously. She picked up her pace until she was almost jogging rather than taking a leisurely, thoughtful stroll.

A hushed whimper of sound made her pause as she passed an alleyway between two buildings. Turning, she squinted down the alley, trying futilely to see through the darkness. She held her breath, straining in hopes of hearing the sound again.

She was not disappointed; a pained moan echoed from the darkness. Wil's breath caught in her throat, and she glanced up and down the street, her hand closing tighter on her keys. Briefly, she thought of running, but whoever it was moaned again, a long, low sound that chilled her.

"Hello?" she called out, reaching into her purse. Her hand found the pocket flashlight she always carried and she pulled it out quickly. There was silence for a moment, then a soft growl. She felt her heart begin to race, and as she flicked on the flashlight, she wondered if she would have been better served pulling out a can of mace. If only she had a can of mace. Or a knife, a knife would be good. She transferred the flashlight to the other hand and pulled out her keys, slipping a key between her fingers and making a fist. It might not be much, but if she punched someone, it would certainly hurt.

The image from the news of the animal attack flashed through her mind, and her hands shook as she raised the light to shine it down the alley. She held her breath, half prepared to come face to face with some fierce dog or wolf or bear – did bears come this far into the city? Would a flashlight and a key hurt a bear?

Her weak light found a shape, and instead of a growling bear, the light played off of someone's back. It was a woman, she thought, though it was hard to tell with so little light. She had matted and tangled hair, maybe brown, maybe blonde so dirty it looked darker, and wore nothing but a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans; no coat or wrap. The figure was rocking slightly, hunched over something that Wil couldn't make out. Perhaps it was the animal that was growling, and she had managed to hurt it and subdue it somehow. The animal growled again, and Wil stood frozen in place, uncertain what to do and unable to move. A part of her wanted to step forward and help, but some deep rooted fear warned her to stay away, to turn and run, to _get away_ as quickly as she could.

As she watched, still torn with indecision, the figured dropped whatever it was she was holding and turned to look down the alley at her. The tiny beam of the flashlight shone directly in the woman's face for a moment, and Wil's breath was taken away as she registered three facts all at once.

The first was that the face was covered in blood. It was smeared over her lips and cheeks, splatters spotted as high as her forehead. What she'd thought was dirt in her hair was actually blood as well, strands of hair falling into the light looking like a terrible dye job to a deep rust red. As Wil watched, her lips turned up in a grin, and her tongue flicked out to lick her lips.

The second thing she noticed was the woman's eyes that stared back at her, seemingly unaffected by the light that shone directly into them. They were a bright and concentrated red, standing out among the darker red horror of her face somehow. There was something instinctual, something fierce and sharp and hungry in them that chilled Wil to her core.

It was the third thing, however, that caused Wil to let the flashlight drop from her grasp, clattering to the pavement. The terrifying vision in front of her was Rhonda.

Wil staggered forward a step, her mouth opening and closing while she struggled to find words, any words, to match with the terrifying scene before her. In the back of her mind, a voice screamed that she should call the police, an ambulance, anything for her friend who was so obviously hurt, but instead she stood dumbly in the street. She closed her eyes a moment, rubbing them. When she opened her eyes again, Rhonda was standing directly in front of her, so close to Wil that she was certain the blood on her friend's face would also be on her own.

Rhonda placed her hands on Wil's shoulders, and her vice grip was painfully tight. Wil searched her face for wounds to produce so much blood, but she could find none; they must be in her hair. Head wounds bled worse than most, right?

It was hard to think with Rhonda's bloodstained face barely inches from her own, her terrifying red eyes piercing into her own.

Somehow, Rhonda found the strength to give Wil a grin, though it didn't reach her crazed red eyes. She leaned forward as though to whisper in Wil's ear, perhaps to beg for help, to say how much she'd missed her friend and reveal the secret of where she'd been. Wil tried to take a step back to avoid the gore her friend was covered in, but she couldn't move.

"Rhonda…"

She choked out the word, and Rhonda froze. She pulled her head back quickly, staring at Wil for a moment curiously. She tilted her head to one side, then the other, studying her friend with a quizzical look on her face. Her lips parted in a gasp, and then she was gone.

A light breeze was the only indication that anyone had been there the second before, moving through Wil's hair and caressing her cheek before dying down. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, looking around frantically to try to find Rhonda, but there was no sign of the woman aside from the blood red handprints on Wil's jacket and the dull ache in her shoulders.

"Rhonda?" she called out this time, spinning around to search the street behind her. "Rhonda!"

Briefly, she thought she may have imagined it, but the proof on her shoulders spoke differently. Thank God for that; she may have thought she was going crazy.

Bending down, Wil picked up her flashlight from where it lay on the ground, shining its light down the sidewalk. She turned it back toward the alley and saw the bundle Rhonda had discarded. Curiosity got the better of her even as her frays nerves screamed for her to run away, and she stepped cautiously into the alley. Her feet kicked at bottles and trash as she made her way through the narrow, dark space between the buildings, the dim light leading her way. As she approached the dark lump on the ground, it began to take shape, but it wasn't until she was standing over it that any details were clear enough for her to piece together. She turned the light down on it and cried out.

It was another person, a man with chestnut hair, face down and wearing a suede coat that had a huge tear down the back of it. Against her better judgment, hands shaking so bad the light danced around on the man's back, she bent down and grabbed him by the shoulder. He must have been 6 feet tall, and he had the build of a football player; she had to set down the flashlight to roll him onto his back.

"Are you all right?" Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper, her throat tight and dry as she picked the flashlight up again. Holding the light in her left hand, she reached out with her right, stopping short when the light found his face. His green eyes stared sightlessly up at her, dull and empty. His face was ashen and pale, his mouth open in a soundless cry for help. The tear on the back of his jacket was nothing compared to the gouge taken out of his neck, and although there was barely a trickle of blood around the wound, it was splattered all over the rest of him.

Wil opened her mouth to scream, and the world around her went black.

It would have been the perfect relief if the blackness had been an end to the nightmare. Shapes danced in front of her eyes, though, and slowly she started to come aware again. There was a sensation of motion, and the shapes grew more red, taking on a vibrant quality with splotches and splashes everywhere. Walls seemed to form around her, and suddenly she was in the alley again, laying on the cold concrete. She pushed herself to her hands and knees and found herself face to face with the young man she'd found earlier, his eyes still staring at her with frightening stillness. They seemed to pierce into her, accusing her of letting him down, of not arriving sooner so that she might have saved his life. She scrambled backward, away from his cold gaze, and bumped into something behind her.

She spun around and pushed herself to a sitting position all in one motion. When she looked down, her heart stopped, and she stared in shock at Kate's lifeless face covered in nearly-iridescent blood. Wil cried out, leaping to her feet and finally getting her first look at the alley in full.

There were bodies everywhere, so many she could no longer see the concrete below. Blood was everywhere, on the bodies, on the walls, flowing and dripping from each and every one of them. In a sort of frenzy, Wil started wading through the bodies, choking out gasps and sobs as each face looked up at her. Beside Kate was Eve, and next to them Jeremy and Kate's boyfriend Max, as well as the latest man Eve had brought around. Making her way down the alley, Wil passed people she recognized from her classes, from the coffee shop down the road, and from the hospital. The alley seemed to go on forever, and with it, a sea of death and blood that was made up of everyone Wil knew.

A sound caught her attention up ahead, and she looked up to see one body moving among the lying masses. She called out, racing forward, stumbling over arms and legs and slipping in the river of blood that seemed to flow down the alley. A voice whispered her name, and she fell to her knees, finding Uncle Chuck among them all. His throat was gouged open like all the rest, but the blood was still warm, and it stuck to her fingers as she pressed them against the wound and tried to hold it all in.

"No," she moaned, "no!" Her uncle's lips moved and his eyes lit upon something behind her, a soundless warning. Wil followed his gaze.

Rhonda stood over her, her hair red from the blood that soaked into it, her face and lips smeared with it. Her lips parted in a smile, revealing pearl white teeth that seemed to glint wickedly, and she reached down for Wil slowly.

Wil hit the floor with a scream. She struggled for a moment, kicking and flailing, until she realized she was not being held down by her ghoulish friend; instead, the comforter from her bed was wrapped around her, pinning one arm against her side and twisting around her waist. Taking a deep breath, Wil lay on her bedroom floor for a moment staring at the ceiling. She waited for her heart to slow before carefully unwinding herself from the covers and sitting up.

God, her head hurt. Terrifying images came back to her, and she looked down quickly, finding herself not in a bloodstained jacket, but instead wearing an old tee and boy shorts, typical nighttime outfit. "What the hell?" she whispered, reaching up to touch her left shoulder. She grimaced as she pressed a tender spot.

She stood up, pulling her sweat-soaked top off and tossing it onto the floor with her blanket. On both of her shoulders were matching bruises that curved from front to back. Running a hand through her hair, she also found a sizable goose egg starting to form near her right ear, and she gasped in pain as her fingers ran over it.

Going to her closet, she pulled out a green sweat shirt and pulled it over her head. Glancing down, she made sure the bruises on her shoulders were concealed, then opened her door and stepped out into the hallway. When she glanced at the coat rack, she saw her jacket from the night before hanging as it always did, perfectly clean.

A dream. Just a dream.


	25. Where to Start

The run's engine purred quietly as Edward and Jasper sat in the parking lot across the street from Wil's apartment.

Neither of them spoke, Edward staring at the Ledyard Apartments with his jaw squared and his teeth clenched, Jasper leaning with his head in one hand, shaking it slightly. His mind was blocked quite solidly against his brother, reciting the latest text he had read and how he would rewrite it later, correcting errors and stripping away its ridiculous bias against the South.

Edward, however, would not have heard Jasper even if his brother wasn't blocking him so effectively. His mind was mired in the night before, from the time Alice had called him, frantic, telling him he and Jasper needed to get across campus _now_, to finding Wil laying beside the dead man drained of life, to the long walk to Wil's apartment, her body cradled in his arms.

"You're doing it again," Jasper had told him softly, looking between the two of them and reading Edward's scattered, flustered emotions.

"No," he'd growled in response, though he clutched Wil closer to him. "Not if I can help it," he'd added as an afterthought, loosening his grip and staring straight ahead, refusing to look down at her.

_I don't think you can,_ Jasper thought, probably to himself. _Maybe you shouldn't._

"How can you say that?" Edward demanded, his eyes narrowing. "How can you think it after everything?"

Jasper had paused, turning to him, and Edward had stopped to wait for him. "Because, dear brother, you know more this time. You can avoid the mistakes. You can do it right." _Tell her. Change her. Be with her, Edward. You deserve it._

Edward huffed as he sat in the car, echoing his response at the time. It was not the first time he'd been told that he deserved what the others had. He had heard it for years before Bella and for years after, and Bella herself had told him that on more than one occasion. Charlie had told him, for God's sake.

He just couldn't bring himself to believe it.

"There they go," Jasper muttered, and Edward watched Kate and Eve leave the apartment building and cross to their car. Focusing on them, Edward watched as Eve shook her head, reading her thoughts and grimacing. "What is it, Edward?"

"They noticed how late she was out," he explained, reaching for the door handle. "She remembers everything, but there were dreams after, and she can't tell them apart."

Jasper grabbed his arm, stilling him as he started to open the door. "That's good. She's brush it all off as a dream."

"There's more," Edward said with a shake of his head. "The newborn – we were right, it's the Rhonda girl that's been missing. And she was their roommate."

Edward pushed his way out of the car without waiting for Jasper to respond, shutting the door firmly behind him. He knew all of the arguments for staying away, and he wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he had to do something.

For a decade, he had been doing nothing, and it had gotten him nowhere.

It was easy to push the knob enough to get it to unlock for him, and he made his way up to Wil's apartment quickly, knocking gently on the door. He heard her moving in the apartment, coming over to the door and sighing quietly. Her thoughts were clouded, but he thought he picked up something about her mother, and there was a hesitation to open the door before she finally did so.

"Edward," she said in surprise, her eyes meeting his.

"Wil," Edward said smoothly, giving her a half smile. "How are you this morning?" He reached up to run a hand through his hair. She wore a baggy grey sweatshirt and a black pair of pants, her hair was damp, and Edward was suddenly at a loss for what to say to the haunted-looking woman before him. She stepped aside, gesturing him in, and after a moment's hesitation he took the offer. Crossing the threshold, he slipped his navy windbreaker off and hung it on an open hook.

"I've been better," she told him. Her face lit up slightly, and she held up one finger, saying, "Just wait here, I'll get your package and you can be on your way." When she turned away, he fell into step behind her.

"Really?" he pressed, matching her step for step as she went into the living room. On a side table sat a small square box with a gold flecked lid.

"Yeah, of course," she told him when she reached the box, picking it up and turning to him. "I had to do something after you gave me so much of your time. Here."

Edward set a hand on the box, gently pressing it back toward her. "That is not what I mean, Willa. You were quite out of sorts last night when I found you at that bus stop. Don't you remember?" The idea came to him out of nowhere. The least he could do for her, he decided, was to give her some peace about the evening before, some way to easily dismiss whatever she had seen.

She gasped quietly, locking eyes with him and studying him for a moment. "What bus stop?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. As she studied him, he slipped his hands into his pockets, adopting a casual air and smirking.

"I guess I was right about how you spent the night," he commented. "You were passed out on the bench of a bus stop, shivering for cold. I woke you up and escorted you home, but I suppose you were still…inebriated."

Wil slowly set the box down. Her eyes pierced him, and a frown tugged at her features. "You're lying," she told him, trying to meet his gaze. He looked away before he could stop himself, the guilt at lying to her an odd companion. "What the hell, Edward? You avoid me for a week, then you show up on my door spouting lies?"

He gaped at her for a moment, jaw slack, then floundered for an answer. "No, I would never-"

"No, never," she sneered, quickly losing her temper. Edward took his hands out of his pockets, raising them slightly to try to calm her as he scrambled for some kind of response. This wasn't going at all like it should! He opened his mouth to placate her and she stepped forward, shoving him. He had the presence of mind to move with her, stumbling backward.

"Why are you even here? You've been ignoring my calls all week, and then you claim to suddenly swoop in to rescue me, lying about what really happened. What _did_ happen, Edward?" she demanded of him. "Tell me before I start believing these dreams and convince myself I'm going crazy."

"I told you, Willa," he said carefully. "I found you, drunk and asleep, on a bus stop bench. If you were having bad dreams, it was probably the alcohol." He took a step back from her, raising his hands. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Well, I'm not," she told him scathingly. "I'm suddenly dreaming of my dead roommate – did you know my roommate is the girl everyone has been looking for and talking about, the one that went missing and was probably attacked by some wild animal? Only she's some murdering psycho suddenly, and there's so much _blood_, and I think I witnessed something horrible last night, but for all I know I'm going crazy and dreaming the whole thing up. My mother and great-uncle are living in the hospital, and he's going senile or something on top of the heart attack he just had, and I feel like I want to cheat on my dead fiancé with a guy who can't decide whether he hates me or not. Life is, in fact, pretty shitty right now, and I don't need you lying to me on top of it all."

Edward froze. He stared at her for a moment, amazed by her outburst, and swallowed thickly as he ran it over once more in his mind. His lips parted, but no sound came out, so he licked his lips and tried again.

"You think I hate you?" he asked quietly.

"You think I was talking about you?' she snapped back. He felt something in his snap, and his body went slack.

"I see," he said softly, ignoring the thoughts in his head telling him that he should have known, should not have bothered even coming here. "In that case, I apologize for interrupting your day, Wil. Excuse me." He turned away from her as a startled look crossed her face. Jasper would be waiting out in the car, and they could go back to the house, see how the others had fared with Rhonda, and make his preparations to leave. He was done here.

This had been a terrible mistake – all of it.

"Wait," she said, and he paused, turning back to her with an eyebrow raised. "There was something I wanted to try." Taking him off guard, she stepped forward and brushed her lips against his gently. For the second time in just moments, she threw him for a loop, and he stood statue-still waiting for her to pull away, to realize her error and shove him away in disgust. Wil brought her hands up slowly, cupping his face to draw him closer, and Edward thought for a moment how different this was from kissing Bella, her body taller, her kisses more certain, her taste entirely different.

Bella's voice whispered in his mind, _Be happy,_ and he slipped his arms around her waist, returning the kiss.

Neither of them expected the usual fireworks a first kiss brought with it. There was too much baggage, too much else going in both of their minds to lose themselves completely. It was tentative, uncertain, like someone who hasn't skated in years stepping out onto the ice again. Her arms found their way around his neck and they leaned into each other, their eyes closing as their lips moved together. After a short time, they broke apart, Wil resting her forehead on Edward's . He resisted opening his eyes, instead allowing herself a few more moments where nothing else mattered but this new and fragile…something…between them. When his eyes opened, they found hers, half-lidded and uncertain. A shiver ran through her, and it brought him back to reality in a thundering crash.

"We shouldn't do this," Edward muttered, pulling away slowly. "I can't."

Wil firmed up her hold on them, refusing to let go. "Don't, Edward. I know it's hard - it's hard for me too."

"It's not that." With a soft touch, he pushed her away from him and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, it is, but it's more than that too. You couldn't understand."

She couldn't. He couldn't explain it to her, refused to – she deserved more than that, better than that. In his mind, he saw Bella laying dead in their home at Forks, her eyes staring up at him sightlessly, and he took another step away from her as he imagined Wil staring up at him the same way. She was staring at him, but he kept his gaze on the wall behind her, not wanting to see the emotions in her eyes. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and nod.

"Fine then," she said in a wavering voice. "It's been a pleasure, Edward. Thank you for all your help." Her voice cracked on the last few words, and the sound tore at Edward, making him wince. Slowly, she went to the door. "Goodbye?"

The way she said the last word as a question twisted the knife already in his chest, and his eyes snapped to hers finally. She was staring at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and the pain in her eyes made him frown. A battle seemed to war within him, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. What should he do? What was right?

He was causing more pain again, just like he always did, only this time he was doing it on purpose. His mistakes with Bella had been mistakes while trying to make her happy, give her the best life she could possibly have. Hurting Wil intentionally… That would make him a monster.

Without opening his eyes, he closed the distance between them, reaching up and shutting the door behind her.

"Come sit with me?" he asked in an almost-desperate tone. "Please?" Finally, he opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with urgency. His fingers closed around hers, leading her out to the living room, and they sat down on the couch together. He didn't release her hand.

"I'm not sure where to start. There is so much." Edward stopped for a moment, staring into her eyes deep in thought. "I do not hate you. I am not sure I _could_ hate you."

"You've had a funny way of showing it," Wil chastised gently, squeezing his hand to take away any of the sting from her comment. Her grip was warm, gentle and comforting, something that he wasn't sure he was ready to acknowledge.

"I know, I know," he told her with a crooked grin. "I would be a liar if I said it was not intentional, Wil. I am not good for you, you need to know that."

"Edward-"

"Please, let me say my piece," Edward asked, shaking his head when she tried to cut in. "I am equally afraid of hurting you and of being hurt, Wil. Terrified. There are things you need to know before I can even consider spending more time with you. I let this go on too long." He leaned forward, her hand still in his, and watched her intently. "Tell me what you think happened last night, and I will tell you if it was a dream."

The sudden reversal caught her off guard. Unprepared, he caught a glimpse of her mind, of the horror from the night before. She shuddered, her mouth hanging open as she tried to form words, and Edward realized just how much she had witnessed before passing out. "It's crazy," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Please, Wil." Edward gazed into her eyes, his voice gentle but insistent, and she pulled her hand from his so that she could wrap her arms around herself.

"I was walking, like I do every night, and I heard this groaning in an alley," she began, hesitant in her telling. "I thought someone was hurt, that they needed help, so I got my flashlight out and saw someone huddled in the alley... She looked up, and it was Rhonda, and she was covered in blood, Edward. There was so much blood. Oh God, Edward, it sounds so crazy that it has to have been a dream, that's what I keep telling myself. One minute she was in the alley, and the next she was in front of me, so close I could feel her breath... She had this terrible look in her eyes, they were blood red, everything was so red..."

She clutched at herself as she trailed off, her gaze growing distant, and Edward recognized the beginning stages of her shock. He had anticipated this, but at the same time it took him off guard; this was no Bella he was dealing with, unphased by all the horrors she had witness. He pulled Wil into his arms, then on to his lap, rocking her gently as she set her head against his chest. "Shh," he murmured into her hair, surrounding her as well as he could with himself. "I have you. I won't let anything hurt you."

It was the most true thing he had ever said to her.

They sat there for a few minutes, Wil shaking in his arms, until finally she was able to push the images from her mind. The tremors that skittered over her slowed, then finally ceased. "Sorry," she muttered, and he could smell a blush creeping over her. He smiled when she pulled away slightly.

"You are so normal," he told her. "This is more what I feared I would find this morning, and it is almost a relief. You were too pulled together. Have you told anyone else about this?" He let her slide off his lap, watching as she slowly pulled herself back together. She ran a hand through her hair, shaking it out, and settled her hands in her lap with her legs crossed beneath her.

"Of course not," she said with a bit of an edge. "They would all have me committed." Edward chuckled softly.

"Of course not," he echoed back at her. "So normal, and yet not at all. The first thing most people would do is run to the police."

Wil shook her head. "And told them what, that my dead roommate has turned into a vampire and is running around the city slaughtering people?"

Edward stiffened. No, she was not Bella, but she was certainly just as perceptive. What now? What should he do? He thought of the way she had felt in his arms – the way he had felt with her – and took a deep breath. _If I'm going to go to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly,_ he told himself, remembering his words from so many years ago. Reaching over, he took her hand, finding calm from her grasp.

"Willa, this sounds ridiculous, but that is exactly what has happened," he told her grimly.


	26. Promise

"Right," Wil said after a moment of packed silence. Where had this conversation gone wrong? When had it changed so swiftly, to make _Edward_ the crazy one instead of her? She considered this for a moment, and then she realized he had to be joking, so she laughed. "Nice one," she told him, "make fun of the women who's just laid herself emotionally bear. Thanks."

"Willa, listen to me," he insisted, tugging her hand so that they leaned toward each other. "You did not dream what happened last night - it was real. I wish it was not, but I do not want to lie to you. You deserve more respect than that."

Wil nearly snorted at him, ripping her hand away. "Right," she said again. "And you're – what – Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Seriously, Edward, if this is how you're going to treat me, just get out. Forget I kissed you, forget I said anything about anything, just leave before this gets any harder than it already is for me."

Edward growled at her, and her eyes snapped to him, wide as saucers. Slowly, he stood up from the couch, and then in a blink he was in the kitchen. His eyes looked crazed, though not in a dangerous or wild way like Rhonda's had the night before; he seemed to be burning with pain and regret, and there was almost an apology in them as he stared across the room at her. Deliberately, he snapped up the corner of the counter top with two fingers, then set it down and disappeared again. It took Wil a moment to realize he stood at the edge of the room, his back to the door out of her apartment.

She gaped at him, her mind not quite caught up to what she had seen.

"Wil," he said, the word coming out a pained moan. "There are unbelievable and terrible things in this world. Your roommate is one of them now, as am I. The difference is that I have no desire to hurt any man, woman, or child... I have caused enough hurt in my existence. The woman you saw yesterday is lost and confused, and very dangerous."

He paused then, and the emotions in Wil started trickling to the surface. She started with surprise, then shock, and landed on a healthy dose of fear. Edward still watched her, his jaw set and his forehead creased as he continued. "I do not tell you this to scare you – _please_ believe me, Wil - but you need to know how fortunate you were last night. And you need to know you can never speak of it to anyone, or even I will not be able to keep you safe. Promise me you will keep it a secret, and I will promise you in return that none of my kind will ever enter your life again."

"Wait," she whispered, holding up a hand. He seemed to freeze in place, and she gawked at him for a moment, frowning slightly. Was he even breathing? She shook her head and leaned back on the couch, clasping her hands to keep them from starting to shake again.

Rhonda was a vampire.

_Edward_ was a vampire?

She had nearly died last night.

Would she die this morning?

Staring at Edward, taking in the fear etched in his eyes despite the way his face had gone blank, she didn't think so. This was impossible, all of it was impossible, but the proof was here in front of her. Her head was spinning. Rising off the couch, she said under her breath, "I'll be right back..." She made her way delicately to the kitchen, stepping as though at any moment she might find a land mine and the whole situation might blow up in her face. She opened a cabinet and took out a glass, which shook slightly as she filled it with water. Taking a bottle of aspirin from the counter, she popped two into her mouth and chased them with the entire glass of water she'd poured, setting the empty cup down in the sink.

What should she do now? Her mind screamed for her to run, or to kick Edward out while he still seemed willing to listen to her. Her heart screamed back, certain he was no threat, yearning to comfort him and ease the pain he was obviously in. The two warred, and neither seemed to be winning as she made her way back to the couch and sat down again. Edward had not moved a muscle, an eerie statue in the corner of the room that watched her move.

Looking out the window, she decided she needed more information before she could make any decisions at all.

"I don't understand," she said in a hushed tone, giving Edward a pleading look. "Please help me understand."

Hesitantly, Edward moved into the room, easing himself onto the beanbag chair that was closest to the exit, keeping himself as far from Wil as he could. He looked awkward and out of place as he sank into it, grimacing. "What do you want to know?"

There were a million answers to that question. "Everything," Wil told him instead. Edward nodded.

"Vampires," he began, "have little in common with the caricatures in stories and movies today. There is nothing so dramatic as burning to ash in the sunlight or turning into bats on a whim; we are predators in human shape, seeming to exist for the sole purpose of keeping the human population in check. A stake to the heart will no more kill us than a butterfly will kill you; you have seen that we are fast, and strong, but you have not seen that we are also nearly indestructible, our skin impenetrable to steel or lead. How you survived last night, with a newborn literally breathing down your neck, I have no idea, Wil.

"Newborn vampires, those recently turned, are the fastest and the strongest, and also the least in control. With time and practice, we gain control, but most only enough to follow our only law: keep the secret. I am breaking this now, but you have already seen enough to get you killed if word travels, which is why I need you to promise me you will not say a word. Put it out of your mind completely. There are some of my kind – Lord save me, myself included – that have gifts beyond the strength and invulnerability, including reading minds."

"You can read _minds_?" she choked out, going pale. God, what did he know? What had he heard? Had he known she was thinking of kissing him? Did he know how much she enjoyed it?

Was he listening right now? Oh hell…

He put up his hands, palms out, and assured her, "Not yours, not completely. There have been a handful of people I have met whose minds are veiled in one way or another. I can feel the tenure of your thoughts, whether they are panicked or calm for example, but I feel like I am underwater. I hear nothing more than a muffled whisper, and nothing I can understand, I promise. Mine is a rare gift as well - I only know of one other mind reader, and he lives overseas. I just wanted you aware of the possibility."

Relaxing back onto the couch, she absorbed this information and tucked it away with the rest, deciding to obsess over it later. "So who's going to kill me?" Wil asked, and Edward shook his head.

"Most any vampire. There are those who enforce our laws, and the rest would kill you just to ensure they were not blamed for your knowledge," he explained. She let this sink in a moment, the realization of it flashing in her eyes. Maybe it would have been better if she had died last night, rather than live the rest of her life fearing someone would find out what she knew and bring her end down on her without warning.

"And you aren't concerned about that?" she wondered.

"Of course I am concerned someone will find out," he told her harshly.

"Then why tell me all this? Why not just kill me?" It was a brazen thing to do, and probably foolish, but she had to know. Edward stared at her for a moment as if puzzled.

"Wil, I care for you," he said. He shifted as though wanting to rise, to go to her, then seemed to think better of it and settled further into his seat. "But I can understand how that is hard to believe of one like me. My family, the eight of us, we resist our basic urges and feed on animals instead of humans. It is still reprehensible, but it gives us a sense of peace knowing we have done no worse than we had in life, eating steak and venison. We chased off a nomad, but your friend was left in his wake."

Wil turned this information over in her mind for a moment. While she did, he watched her, his hands folded in his lap and his legs crossed. He never met her gaze though, always finding reason to look away when she tried to look him in the eye. Another vampire had found Rhonda, and he had been in the process of killing her. They had managed to stop him – sort of. So that made them the good guys? Sort of.

"And what about...your life? You're indestructible? Are you immortal too?" she asked him, and he nodded. "I'm not sure I want to ask this, but...how old are you?"

"I have been a vampire for over a hundred years," he admitted, looking down at the floor. "I was born in 1901, and was turned at 17."

Wil cursed under her breath, doing the math for herself. "And where does that leave..." She trailed off, her throat suddenly dry. Swallowing, she finished, "...us?"

For the first time since sitting down, his eyes found hers, wide and intense. "Us?"

"If – big if here – we wanted to explore things further...?" Stumbling for words, she left the question hanging, trying with her eyes to convey what she wasn't ready to say aloud. She hated that she even asked the question, part of her still wanting to run from this man who had broken so many of her assumptions about reality, but she still saw in him a kindred soul, one who could understand her, could make her laugh and cry and feel nearly whole again.

She was not the only one at a loss. Edward seemed ready to speak once, twice, three times before he was able to find anything to say. "I don't know, Wil," he said. All at once, he was no longer something unreal to her, but instead a man as lost and confused in his own emotions as she was. She reached out a hand to him, and after a moment's hesitation, he stood. Instead of taking her hand, however, he slipped an arm around her as he sat on the couch, tucking her against his side and placing a kiss on the top of her head. "Bella..." He spent a moment searching for words. "Bella was human as well. We met, fell in love, and were wed all while she was still alive in every sense of the word. Through some miracle, we conceived a child, and it was the death of her. I am so afraid to open myself up again – I know you understand that perfectly – but with a human it is twice as hard."

The full impact of Edward's story shattered her heart. Wil threaded her arm around his waist, pulling him close to her and placing a kiss on his jaw. He responded to her gesture by lowering his lips to hers, capturing them in a kiss that went on until finally she had to break away to catch her breath. As she panted, he smirked, whispering, "Breathe, Wil."

She socked him in the shoulder, muttering as she shook out the pain that blossomed in her hand. "Stupid vampire."

"Perhaps," he agreed, nodding. "My brother thinks I should change you, now, before anything can happen to take you away from me."

"And what do you think?" Wil asked him as she rested her head on his shoulder. He leaned his head against hers.

"I can hardly ask that of you, Wil," he said. "You would be giving up so much – your family, your home, your schooling, your friends, all ties to the life you have now. But that is what I would have to ask in time, if things worked out between us. I've already lost one love to the fragility of life; I cannot stand to lose another. You need to know that before we go any further."

The weight of this settled on Wil like a lead blanket. Her mind went to everyone and everything she knew now, to her parents, to Kate and Eve, to Uncle Chuck and her extended family... Twice she had lost someone she loved, and twice it had thrown her into chaos. Could she do that to them all, just for one man, no matter how easily he saw her soul and cherished her for it? She believed she could easily love him, may already be starting to if she was even considering all this, but was that enough?

To buy some time, she kissed him again, this time pouring all of herself into it. He pulled her closer, and one of her hands found its way into his hair, gripping it tightly. In response, one of his hands glided down her leg, pulling it over so that she was settled in his lap. The contact sent her heart racing, and if she realized they were making out like teenagers, she didn't care. Both seemed to feel the weight of the kiss, and they used the time to explore each other, physically and emotionally, testing the waters between them.

Yes, she could love him. She did love him, in that new sort of way where there was still so much to learn, and you spent hours on end trying to learn it all.

That she could love someone, so soon, so deeply that she considered any type of forever with him, stilled her racing heart. She broke away from him, burying her face into his neck and breathing in the scent of him, committing it to memory.

"I promise," she whispered. Slowly, she slid back onto the couch, turning their bodies so that she stared into his eyes, their arms still around each other.

"You promise?" he asked her, tracing her jaw with his nose and placing a kiss at the apex of her chin. Tears sprung to her eyes.

"I promise I will keep the vampire secret, if you promise no vampire will enter my life again."

Comprehension dawned in his features, and the grief she saw there nearly tore her apart. She opened her mouth to take it back, to fix the heartbreak she had caused in them both, but before she could form the words he was gone.


	27. Epilogue  One Year Later

"Almost two years ago," Wil began, looking out over the sea of faces that filled the auditorium, "my fiancé died in a tragic accident – but this song isn't about him. While I was still mourning his loss, I met a man who seemed capable of putting the pieces back together for me when even I was incapable of doing it. Too late, I realized that fear was no reason to push him away. This piece is called, _How We Love._"

Alice sat at the back of the auditorium watching with a knowing smile on her lips. Jasper sat on her left, Edward and Renesmee on her right, and a few rows in front of them she could see the back of Charlie's head as he watched his great-niece with pride. While she was interested in the performance, most of Alice's attention was on Edward, sitting stiffly despite Jasper's calming influence on him.

_Life has taught me this_

_Every day is new_

_And if anything is true_

_All that matters when we're through_

_Is how we love_

True to his word, Wil had never seen him, nor any other vampire, after he had left her sitting on her couch with a heart she had broken all on her own. No amount of convincing from her or her siblings could get Edward to reconsider, and while it felt dreadfully like leaving Bella all over again, they all knew it had been Wil's choice this time – and so Alice and Jasper moved with Edward, transferring to the University of Seattle. Rosalie and Emmett had stayed behind; they would finish their programs here and then reunite with the family afterward.

_Faced with what we lack_

_Some things fall apart_

_But from the ashes new dreams start_

_All that matters to the heart_

_Is how we love_

They hadn't moved immediately, though. It had taken another few days to track down the newborn – Rhonda – that had been left behind to terrorize the campus. Her maker was long gone, and though they'd tried to convince Rhonda to follow their lifestyle, she had attacked viciously. They hated the task on their hands, but once she was laid to rest, Edward had written a letter and mailed it to Wil to assure her she was no longer in danger.

On stage, the strings joined the piano in a flourish as the chorus began.

_How we love_

_How we love_

_From the smallest act of kindness_

_In a word, a smile, a touch_

Charlie, who had retired to Kennewick to be near his remaining human family, had become a part of the Cullen family as well. With the three of them in Seattle, they made the journey once a month, meeting him at their home in Forks. Renesmee made the trip a few times, and the meeting between the two had been nothing short of magic. Both had wept as they hugged each other tightly, and the others in the room felt their throats tighten as their eyes tingled with tears they could not shed. Making up for lost time, Charlie took her fishing, and she and Jacob took him to ball games in Seattle.

Her marriage to Jacob had been a sore point at first, something Charlie had a hard time accepting, but Jacob had won him over eventually.

_In spite of our mistakes_

_Chances come again_

_If we lose or if we win_

_All that matters in the end_

_Is how we love_

Alice had, of course, kept her second sight on Wil as well, and thought often of the woman that she had once seen as her sister. The visions were gone now, mere memories, but she recalled them fondly and thought well of Wil despite her decision. The woman had slowly recovered from the loss of Edward in a way Bella had never been able to, working toward a scholarship that allowed her to find her own place off campus and continue pursuing a career in music. On stage, she looked radiant, though the Willa that Alice often saw still hurt, still struggled with being alone when she had nearly had a life full of love, not once but twice. Before coming, Alice had tried to convince Edward to go see her again, but he had refused.

Some things never changed.

Wil stopped singing, and the musicians behind her allowed their music to come to the forefront. The drums started in softly, accenting the lilting rhythm as the strings joined the piano in a delicate harmony. Wil closed her eyes, and Alice watched as a single tear slipped onto her cheek. Her lips turned up in a soft smile, though, as the music overtook her, and it comforted Alice as Wil began to sing again.

_How we love_

_How we love_

_I will not forget your kindness_

_When I needed it so much_

Edward… Edward struggled. Sighing quietly, she glanced at her brother and watched the pain etched on his face. He would hide it well as soon as the song was over, but for now, she saw that he still held on to it. Despite that, he was doing better than he had since losing Bella; somewhere between meeting Wil and reuniting with Charlie, Jasper said he had finally let go of the guilt and the grief, and he was throwing himself fully into his education. A vision of Edward practicing beside Carlisle filled Alice with pride, especially when she saw the smile on his face. He would find his way. Wil had given him a gift, even if she had run from him in the end.

_Sometimes we forget_

_Trying to be so strong_

_In this world of right and wrong_

_All that matters when we're gone_

_All that mattered all along_

_All we have that carries on_

_Is how we love_

The song came to a close with a lasting note from Wil and a soft fade from the strings. Alice and her family rose to their feet along with a scattering of others in the crowd as the applause echoed through the auditorium. Wil turned gracefully, gesturing to each of her musicians and introducing them by name, then she thanked them and the group left the stage. As the professors returned to the podium, the Cullens excused themselves, slipping out the back.

There were no words between them. Jasper wrapped an arm around Alice's waist, his hand settling comfortably on her hip, but they both watched Edward. As they passed by the hall that led backstage, he paused, casting a glance down it.

Alice's mind opened, and she saw a deluge of images all at once: Edward standing outside a rehearsal room with Wil's hand on his cheek, the two of them kissing firmly beneath a tall oak in the middle of summer, Wil's eyes fluttering open to reveal bright-

"Coming, Dad?"

Renesmee's voice broke the vision, and as quickly as it had appeared, it had slipped away like smoke on the wind. Edward shook his head slightly and turned to his daughter, setting an arm around her shoulders.

"Let's go," he said quietly, and they left the Hop, making their way into the night beyond.

Seeing the genuine smile on Edward's face, she didn't need a vision to know that he would be just fine.

* * *

[A/N: The song is "How We Love" by Beth Nielsen Chapman. Thank you for reading – I know the ending probably isn't what most expected, but I had to follow the characters, and I never pictured this story as being about Edward having a happily ever after without Bella. I hope you enjoyed it, and would love to hear what you thought.]


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